


you knew that I'd call you up

by aniloquent



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, I promise, M/M, Rimming, Stevesharon for a second, Vaginal Sex, and clint is the peanut gallery, bucky is just a sassy thot tbh, but just for like a little bit, natasha and misty are lesbians, steve and sam are football jocks, trust me this story is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 14:34:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17551532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniloquent/pseuds/aniloquent
Summary: Steve can’t stop smiling, and he feels like he’ll never come down from this high. “I’m great. I’ve never experienced anything that powerful or intense. It was amazing.”Bucky snorts. “Alright, Robert Frost. Getting fucked in the ass is far from a spiritually awakening process.”“Yeah, well, I’m glad it was with you.”Bucky looks over at him with an unreadable expression on his face.Steve and his big fucking mouth.-Typical college-style Friends With Benefits AU. Hijinks ensue.





	you knew that I'd call you up

**Author's Note:**

> EDITED NOTE 1/27/19 - Hello guys! It's been literally forever, I haven't uploaded a single thing in half a year, but here I am! College is time-consuming and stressful and literally this is the only window of time I have to breathe before I get scalped on Monday so here ya go 😅 I hope 20k words of literally Steve and Bucky fucking like rabbits and doing nothing much of anything else holds you over while I work on other projects like Adventures in Retail and what not... but yeah.
> 
> Also, while this situation is highly envious and we all wish that we could enter a hot and steamy relationship with a hot, dedicated piece of ass like Steve/Bucky, real life, especially in college, does not pan out like that. Please do not use either of their behavior in this story as a template for finding a sexual/romantic partner and doing stuff with them. It's not super healthy! Find people that love you and are on the same page as you with COMMUNICATION - that's the real villain of the story.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

“Steve,” Sharon moans. Steve grunts and places a few sloppy, open kisses to her neck before moving to unclasp her bra. His eyes widen slightly as she moves, and her breasts spill out of the wired lace, dusty pink nipples peeping at him.

_ Okay, Steve,  _ he thinks, _ you can do this. Just like we saw on PornHub _ . 

He takes one into his mouth and sucks, and Sharon keens, back arching even more. She squirms in his lap. He cheers internally. She seems to like that.

Her hands come to rest on his shoulder as he continues his worship. She lets out another low moan as his hand comes to cup her other breast. “Steve,” she says again, and he takes her hardening nipple between his finger and rolls it around.

It must be too hard of a tug, though, because Sharon hisses and jumps. “That hurt!” She squeaks.

Unceremoniously, her other nipple slips out of his mouth as he winces at her. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he apologizes.

She shakes her head and presses a kiss to his temple. “It’s fine, you’re fine,” she assures. “But that really hurt. I wanna get my hands on you.”

“O-okay.”

Steve lets her out of his grip, and they both kick off their underwear. He gulps. Now there’s no barrier separating them, and she can see  _ everything _ . 

Sharon lays on her stomach across the bottom half of Steve’s bed as he sits up. Her hand grips him and starts to move up and down his cock, and his head gets cloudy. 

Her hands are soft, warm, and feel about ten times more amazing than his ever have before. She’s looking at him through her lashes while the corner of her mouth quirks up into a self-satisfied smile. She twists her wrist, and Steve full on moans. His stomach visibly tightens. 

“You like when I do that?”

One thousand mini-Steves inside his head scramble for a response. Dirty talk. Right. He knew this was going to happen. People did this all the time. Right.

“Uh, yeah,” he stutters out, and immediately wants the ground to open up and swallow him. How the fuck do pornstars do this off of the top of their head? There must be some sort of list full of dirty talk prompts to go off of. “Feels great. G-good job.”

She stops to frown at him. Steve sort of expected that. Sharon pushes herself up off of the bed. He watches her breast bounce as she walks over to his desk to get a condom. 

_ Time for the final act. _ Steve tries not to breathe too heavily. 

Sharon straddles his thighs and looks down at his cock, standing at full attention and ready to go. “Can I?”

Steve nods, and he guesses it’s supposed to be hot for her to do it, but he also broke all of the ones he tried to practice with before she came over. He casts a guilty glance at the pile of shiny wrappers in his trash can.

It’s better for both of them if she does this.

Her fingers are small and delicate, and soon Steve’s member is looking back at him through a thin latex screen. 

“Ready?” She asks him, and Steve pulls himself out of his own thoughts to find her cute face watching him expectantly. He nods. She smiles and leans down to kiss him again. He’s careful not to slide his tongue into her mouth like earlier. She wasn’t too crazy about that.

She’s hot and tight as she slides down onto him, and Steve’s heart is beating in his ears. 

When she’s fully seated, Sharon lets out a breathy moan. “You’re big.” she says. 

“Thanks,” Steve says. He hopes that doesn’t make him sound like an asshole. 

She moves up, then down, then up again, and it takes Steve about three more cycles of that to get with the program.  _ Don’t make her do all the work, moron! Use your hips! _

Steve pushes his hips up to try and meet her thrusts, but he can never quite catch her. He’s either a second too late or a second too early, and the product looks sloppy and uncoordinated. Sharon grits her teeth, and Steve knows she’s frustrated. He just can’t get himself out of his head to find her natural rhythm.

After a few more missed connections, she sighs and puts a hand on Steve’s chest. He stops moving at looks up to find her pretty mouth turned down in a frown. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah,” she sighs and runs a hand through her blonde hair. The movement makes her breasts move, and Steve briefly forgets about the obvious displeasure his partner is experiencing. “You’re not… really that good at this.”

Steve flushes, not because he’s offended, but because she’s right.

Even after his miraculous transformation that turned sweet little Stevie Rogers from a tiny, ninety pound twink into a 6’2”, muscle-bound freak, the social ineptitude stayed. Steve decided that he was going to transition from a theoretical bisexual to a practicing one in college, as good a time as any, but he was still having trouble not performing like an awkward teenager. 

Hooking up with Sharon, an incredibly ambitious business major with a heavenly body, was supposed to be his moment to break out of his sexually naive cocoon. 

Steve bites his lip and drops his head in shame. He nods and pulls out of Sharon carefully, and he feels himself flush even deeper at her sigh of relief. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly. “I’m not very… familiar with all of this.”

Sharon snorts, and she probably means for it to be playful, but it knocks Steve’s ego down to an even lower peg. “I can tell. We can try again next time.”

Both of them redress in awkward silence. 

Sharon pulls her shirt over her head and turns to look at Steve. “Hey,” she calls out, and places a hand on his arm. Steve reluctantly makes eye contact with her. She forces a tight-lipped smile, and _ god Steve just wants this to be fucking over already _ . “I think we have something good here, you know?” Steve blinks back without a clear emotion in his mind or on his face. “And I like you a lot outside of having sex.”

Steve winces at that. “Yeah, I like you too. I- uh, get nervous when it comes to…” He trails off and gestures between them. “You know.”

Sharon nods sympathetically. Steve literally wants to die. “Are- or were, I guess- you a virgin before just now?”

Steve shrugs. “Sort of, but even in the past I never really got anywhere with my partners because I’m so bad at it. I’m too awkward, too uncoordinated, and too shy to really get into it.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re not any of those things. I’ve seen you on the field, and you’re an enigma.” Steve ducks his head at the compliment. “Just have sex how you play football.”

Steve laughs self-deprecatingly. “I’ll be sure to bring my helmet and my cup next time.”

Sharon gives him one last pitying smile. “We’ll talk soon, Steve. Take care.”

Steve waits until the door is completely closed to flop down onto his bed and groan loudly into his duvet.

-

“And we haven’t gone out since,” Steve finishes miserably for Sam and Clint. The duo exchange winces and glances as Steve sullenly steps into a pair of clean running shorts. 

“So SteveSharon is dead, I’m guessing?” Clint supplies unhelpfully. Sam punches him in the arm and Steve shoots him a dirty look. “Hey! It was just a question.”

“A dumbass question,” Sam admonishes, and claps Steve on the shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, Steve. Plenty of fish in the sea and what not, you know?”

Steve barely glances over at Sam as he digs around in his bag for his clean shirt. 

He wrinkles his nose at the faint smell. 

Make that his clean- _ ish _ shirt.

Still, Steve pulls it on before frowning at Sam again. “Yeah, I know. But how am I ever supposed to get any if the fish find out that I’m horrible at everything concerning sex?”

Sam shrugs. “You’d be surprised how many people would overlook that. We’re all young, dumb, and horny.” He grins at Steve. “Busting a nut is more important than how you get it.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Sam’s crass reasoning. Clint grunts his agreement. “Especially with all that…” he gestures wildly at Steve’s face and body. “ _ You _ you’ve got going on. You’re cute as shit with an ass that won’t quit! There’s always someone out there for guys like you.”

Sam nods emphatically. “Precisely. We just need to get you looking hot around some people looking to fuck and you’re good to go.”

_ Real angels, his friends are, _ Steve thinks sarcastically. “Sure. So what, then? We just cover me in barbecue sauce and put me in the middle of the quad? Where am I going to find people desperate enough to sleep with me and teach me about sex?”

Clint grins. “Let’s go to a party tonight.”

-

“Three! Two! One!”

Steve downs his third shot among a handful of his teammates, including Sam and Clint, vodka burning the back of his throat. He makes a face and tries to control his gagging. Wasn’t this stuff supposed to go down smoother after the first couple?

Sam catches Steve suffering and laughs. “Not up to your standards?” he teases as the group dissipates. He watches his teammates break off into different duos and trios to try and score before the end of the night. Steve frowns.

He’s not sure he can say the same thing.

Turning to Sam and trying to control what his friend calls his “sad ass 90s white boy face”, Steve plasters on a nearly excruciating smile. “Not really. I was hoping for something a little classier.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I’ll be sure to speak to the frat bros about putting champagne flutes next to the Twizzlers and Cheeto Puffs for next time.”

Steve laughs for real this time, and he can’t help but notice how nice Sam’s skin looks under the cheesy strobe lights in the kitchen. He’s covered in a thin layer of sweat, most likely from the numerous bodies packed into the house. It doesn’t look unattractive, though; Sam’s rich complexion is nearly glowing, and his high cheekbones are pushed up into an amused smile as he stares up at Steve.

The blond bites his lip.

Sam catches Steve’s obvious change in demeanor and raises his eyebrows. “Everything alright?”

Sam rolls his shoulders, and Steve follows the movement with his eyes, tongue absently tracing his bottom lip. “I’m good.”

This was the alcohol talking. Although he’s a couple beers and three shots in, Steve knows he couldn’t sleep with his teammate for plethora of reasons. They’re linemen, and they’re nearly always on the same string. Things would be unbearably awkward for the next four years if Steve did something stupid now. Also, it isn’t fair to Sam that Steve only wants him - and vice versa, Steve muses somewhat hopefully - solely because he was well on his way to being drunk. Sam was the only other bisexual player (that Steve knew of) on the team. He didn’t want to make things weird because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Besides, Steve couldn’t think of a single soul on God’s green earth that deserved to suffer through having sex with him.

Sam seems to have the same idea. “Watch yourself, Rogers,” he warns, and punches Steve in the shoulder. “There’s plenty of people here that won’t get you in trouble. I’m not one of them. Go meet someone new.”

Steve’s shoulders drop but he’s mostly thankful for that intervention. It would have ended up a lot messier than Steve think’s his internal brooding could handle right now.

“Where’s Sam Wilson?” A loud voice bellows from outside the kitchen. Steve quickly recognizes Clint’s yelling. He pauses for a brief moment of silence for the kid’s poor hearing aids. “I have ten dollars that says he won’t outdrink me!”

Sam looks absolutely affronted, and Steve rolls his eyes. His teammates are idiots. 

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters, and makes his way towards the living room before tossing another charming smile Steve’s way. “Duty calls,” Sam says, feigning reluctance. Steve wishes he could have a fraction of Sam’s confidence. “But seriously, man. Try and get some tonight. I heard the MechE girls are out tonight, and I’ve met a few that are seriously down for anything.” Before Steve can ask him what he means by that, Sam is disappearing into the crowd, calling a quick “Stay safe! Consent is key!” before leaving altogether. Steve watches him go and sighs.

He’s going to need another beer. Steve crouches down to the cooler and starts rifling through what seems like millions of brown bottles before finding his favorite brand. He pops the cap and gets to his feet, leaning against a counter while he attempts to form a game plan for tonight.

“-and so at this point the old lady’s yelling right in my ear, and so I figure it’s best to just go ahead and give her my free hotdog,” a leggy, brown-haired boy is telling a rather bored-looking, pretty Black girl as they enter the kitchen. They make their way over to the beer coolers, talking animatedly only six feet away from Steve. “I’m still bitter about it, though. I won that dance contest fair and fucking square. No one told her to be in the damn way.”

The girl shakes her head, large Afro seemingly moving with a mind of its own. Steve tries not to stare, instead trying to focus on the condensation wetting his fingers. She’s gorgeous, and her surely body language reminds her of Sharon. “Bucky, you’re a complete mess.”

Bucky, apparently, holds up his hands and grins down at the girl, wolfish grin stretching across handsome features. “Misty, I swear. All of this is one hundred percent true, and I have video footage.”

Misty crosses her arms, and Steve gets a decent look at the fancy, gold prosthetic she’s rocking. He finds that Bucky has a neat, silver one of his own. “I believe you, dude. Trust me.” Bucky passes them both beers, and they toast. Her pretty, umber features screw up into a pout at the first sip. “This is so disgusting! I hate it here.” Bucky grunts and takes her can while he downs his own. “You said there would be hot women here, and all I’ve encountered are beefy white guys that try and flirt with me using 80s rap lyrics.” 

Steve smiles at that. She would be good with his scary lesbian friend Natasha. 

Bucky downs the second beer in what has to be record time - Steve is honestly impressed - before frowning down at his friend. “I only said that to get you to come, babe. I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten any, and Thor always has specimen at his parties.” He shrugs and shoots her an intoxicatingly apologetic smile. “If all else fails, I’m gonna end up with either him or his brother at the end of tonight.”

Misty wrinkles her nose. “Loki?” Bucky waves his hand dismissively.

“I know. Don’t judge me. He recites Nordic poetry during sex but he’s hot in a ‘mythological god that might sacrifice me to his father after we fuck’ type of way. I’m kinda down with it.” Steve can’t help but chuckle that their interaction, no matter how creepy it may seem that he’s just standing here watching two complete strangers talk about sex at a college party. It’s the most fun he’s had all night. 

Bucky lets out a dramatic whine and sways his lean figure against the counter. “I can’t believe we’ve been here for two hours-”

“-thirty minutes,” Misty corrects flatly.

“-and I haven’t seen a single boy worth my time. It’s honestly a little homophobic that we go to school with all these fucking straights, and-” Bucky finally makes eye contact with Steve, and the blond feels something like electricity go down his spine. This boy has the most beautiful shade of blue around his pupils that Steve’s ever seen. “Hello.”

Steve waves coyly. “Hi.”

Misty sighs. “That’s my cue. I’ll be getting drunk with the volleyball team if you need me.” She exits, but Bucky barely acknowledges her, eyes trained on Steve.

“Maria,” Steve calls after her. Misty turns and frowns at him. Steve rubs the back of his neck and fidgets under her gaze. “M-Maria Hill. She’s the setter. Tall, black hair, legs for days. She’s lesbian. Difficult to miss.”

Misty beams disarmingly at him, and Jesus why is Steve so intimidated by her? “Good looks, Blondie.” She finally leaves, and Steve finds Bucky much closer to him than before in a matter of seconds.

“I’m Bucky. My Russian immigrant parents wanted me to become fully assimilated into American culture, so they named me after the gayest president in our great nation’s history.” Steve snorts. “Except maybe after Lincoln.”

“I’m Steve. I don’t have as entertaining of a backstory behind my name, sorry.”

The sides of Bucky’s full, pink mouth quirk up as he unabashedly drags his eyes down Steve’s body. “God, you’re cute. I hope I’m not misreading this.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Steve’s suddenly feeling bold as he returns Bucky’s ogling. “Nope, not at all.”

Bucky’s smirk turns into a full on smile, and he exaggeratedly wipes his brow in relief. “Whew! I thought that sinfully tight henley and Natty Light was only for the ladies.”

Steve guffaws. “Well, I’m glad you got the message.”

The next hour - maybe two, Steve can’t really remember - seems to pass by in a blur. He never ventures out of the kitchen, too entranced by Bucky’s voracious flirting to really try and find anyone else. The brunet is all sly smiles and suggestive glances over Steve’s figure, and Steve doesn’t even mind that much. 

As their laughter dies down, Steve finds it harder and harder to keep his eyes off of Bucky’s lips. He isn’t even aware he’s leaning in until he watches Bucky’s eyes flutter closed, mouth waiting expectantly. 

“Uh,” Steve utters dumbly. Bucky opens his eyes and frowns. “Can I kiss you?”

Bucky blinks slowly at him. “Well, that wasn’t an invitation for chess, Farmer Boy.” 

Steve feels his cheeks heat up and rubs the back of his neck. “Consent is important.”

“Such a gentleman. I like that.” Soft lips are on his before Steve realizes it, and he doesn’t mind the taste of alcohol as they kiss against the counter, completely oblivious to the party going on right outside the kitchen. Bucky places a hand on Steve’s chest before he dives in completely again. He wags a finger in Steve’s face. “No funny business, though.”

-

“I thought you said you didn’t want to hook up.”

“And you believed me? Why else would I be looking for a spare bedroom?”

“I thought you were tired or something! That’s not proper consent.”

Bucky stops marching through the hall to turn and look at Steve. He’s regarding Steve with a look reluctant to form into something fully impressed, and instead does one appreciative nod. “You’re sweet.”

Steve feels hot underneath those blue eyes. “Thanks.”

Bucky turns away and begins hauling Steve through the house again, moment effectively over. They finally reach the end of the hall as Bucky stops abruptly in front of a room. Steve’s entire front presses against Bucky’s backside as he stumbles into him. The shorter man hums appreciatively. “I bet you look so good when you cum,” he comments noncommittally.

“I- what?”

“Come in!” Bucky shoulders the door open, and Steve takes it in as a small, stereotypical frat house bedroom.

“Should we be doing this in someone’s room? Feels sort of wrong.”

Bucky turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. “You know anywhere else?”

Steve shakes his head. He makes a mental note to write an apology and maybe buy this person some candy or something afterwards.

Bucky grunts. “Alright then. Besides, I know the guy, he’s really cool with this.”

Steve balks. “He’s seriously just fine with random people hooking up in his room? You talked to him?”

“Nope.”

“You make no sense whatsoever, you know that?”

Bucky laughs. “Thank you. I’m going to kiss you again now.”

Steve furrows his brow. Out of all the people at this party, of course he’s about to hook up with the strangest one here. “I would really like that.”

Bucky presses a short, sweet kiss to Steve’s lips before pulling back to gauge his reaction. Steve hopes he’s not as red as he feels. Bucky grins. “Alright?”

Steve smiles back. “Perfect.”

When Bucky kisses him again, the fervor catches Steve off guard. Bucky grinds hard against him and opens his mouth, prompting Steve to do the same. He groans as Bucky’s tongue touches his and his hands come up to run over Steve’s shoulders and into his hair.

_ Fuck, Steve hopes he doesn’t mess this up. _

Bucky’s mouth pulls off of his with a wet smack. Steve tries not to whine at the lost of heat as Bucky starts trailing kisses down his body, pushing his shirt up to below his pectorals. Bucky drops to his knees, and Steve’s brain short circuits. He looks down into eager blue eyes as a hand palms him through his jeans. “Can I suck you off?”

Steve nods embarrassingly fast.

Bucky grins as he starts unbuckling Steve’s belt. “You’re adorable, you know that? So eager. So innocent. Like a little puppy.” Bucky winces. “Maybe don’t think about animals when I’m about to suck your dick. The context just isn’t right.”

Steve opens his mouth to tell Bucky to shut up, he’s killing the mood, but he finds his pants and underwear pushed down to his knees before he can say anything. Bucky’s slender fingers wrap around his dick and jerk it to full erection within seconds.

Blue eyes meet his own, and Steve’s head gets cloudy as Bucky leans forward to take him in his mouth.

Steve doesn’t have much (see here: any) experience in the blowjob field, but he’s pretty sure Bucky is a fucking professional.

He has a ridiculously talented tongue, Steve finds out very quickly, and expressive eyes that Steve is sure he’s going to remember for the rest of his life. Bucky’s pupils are blown as he drags his tongue along Steve’s shaft, lips coming to wrap around his tip. Steve’s head hits the wall as he lets out a long, low groan.

This isn’t gonna take very long.

Sure enough, Steve feels heat building in his stomach after a few more minutes of Bucky working his magic. “B-Bucky,” Steve breathes, frantically tapping his shoulder. The brunet grunts, and Steve’s hips jerk forward involuntarily. “I’m close.”

Instead of pulling off, Bucky, the son of a bitch, sucks even harder, tongue swirling around Steve’s sensitive head. He barely has time to register the sensation before he comes with a nearly embarrassing cry, trying not to tug on Bucky’s hair too hard. Bucky simply huffs through his nose, probably laughing at Steve’s orgasm, and swallows him down.

When Bucky finally pulls off of him, Steve leans against the wall to catch his breath. He’s spaced out until he sees Bucky start to move from his spot on the floor, and goes to yank his pants up and redo his jeans.

“This has been fun, Farm Boy,” Bucky laments, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his metal hand. Steve’s eyes can’t seem to focus anywhere but on his lips. “But I gotta run.”

What? “You can’t,” Steve pleads. “I haven’t gotten to return the favor yet.” In a bold move, he palms Bucky like the latter did to him not even fifteen minutes ago. “And it sort of looks like you want me to.”

Bucky’s eyes close in a slow blink, attempting some sort of self-control. “I-I really can’t. I’m sorry.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Bucky kisses him hard, and Steve tastes himself, sharp and earthy. “Great dick. You’re hot.”

Steve mumbles a thanks and watches Bucky disappear out of the room, muffled music keeping him company as it pumps through the walls.

He isn’t really sure what the fuck just happened.

-

Steve is an idiot.

Of course he meets a gorgeous and entertaining guy that’s obvious sexually interested in him and very good at giving blowjobs.

And Steve forgets to get his number.

Not that Steve’s looking for a strictly-professional booty call. He doesn’t know why such a short encounter left him halfway to smitten with Bucky, but he thinks that he would really like taking his time getting to know someone like him.

Too bad Steve has no way of getting in touch with him.

He sighs as he pushes his way into the cafe, early to his study session. That particular road came to a sooner end than he would have liked, but it’s his luck.

He’s trudging up to order some sugary, caramel concoction that would make the team nutritionist want to kill him when he spots a familiar, flashy prosthetic.

Said familiar, flashy prosthetic is attached to the same boy that’s been occupying his mind all weekend, sitting at a table near the window, frowning down at his laptop with a pen in between his plush lips. 

Sometimes his shitty luck gives him a break.

Steve’s mouth is working faster than his brain, and he’s fully ignoring all the red signs telling him not to call out his hook-up in the middle of a crowded place. “Bucky! Hi!”

The brunet’s head shoots up, and he frowns around the pen in his mouth.

Steve steps out of line and comes over to sit down in the empty chair opposite Bucky, who frowns through him and at the previously empty, traitorous seat. He puts the pen down.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. That was… weirdly short. But who wouldn’t be mildly embarrassed at his little outburst? “I’ve been looking for you.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raise, and Steve waits for that teasing grin from the other night to follow. “Oh?”

He frowns. “I guess that sounds a little creepy, sorry,” Bucky chuckles a little meanly, and Steve can feel himself floundering. “I just mean- well, I never got your number.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to frown. “Why would you?”

Oh. 

Well.

“T-to maybe hang out? Possibly?” The growing look of disinterest on Bucky’s face is making Steve’s voice higher and less sure as he forces out the words.

Bucky blinks slowly at him before sighing. He shuts his laptop and put it in his book bag on the floor. “I don’t date.”

“That fine,” Steve says quickly. He ignores the romantic part of his brain that says  _ no, that is not fine. At all. Whatsoever. You’re way too emotional for that _ . “We don’t have to do all of that. We can just be friends. You’re a cool person.” 

The brunet shoulders his bookbag. “I’m just not that interested in seeing you again, sorry.”

Steve’s shoulders droop just a little. “You were much nicer when you were sucking my dick.”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Ha! You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve heard that.” He gets up from the table and turns away, and Steve lunges out to grab his arm and prevent him from leaving. 

“Wait!”

Bucky stills as he turns his head slowly, blue eyes trying to burn a hole through where Steve’s hand is gripping his bicep.

And, yeah. Steve relaxes his hold before dropping his hand altogether. A guy his size shouldn’t be coming after Bucky like that, especially over something like sex. It didn’t sit well in his stomach.

He scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

Bucky turns to face him fully again and drops into his seat, pouty lips frowning as he looks defiantly at Steve. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Steve huffs. “I just don’t understand why you’re being weird and distant and completely different from the other night.”

A humorless smile twists Bucky’s mouth, and Steve prepares himself for more snark. “Well,  _ Steve _ ,” the way Bucky spits out his name makes him slump even further. “I usually don’t like to sit down and discuss the rise of socialism in 1960s Latin American society with my hook-ups. We didn’t have that special of a connection.”

And yeah, Bucky’s right. It’s college. Steve shouldn’t be so invested. Bucky clearly isn’t the second date (if he could even call it that) type. He’s quiet, and drops his eyes to where his fingers are moving with a mind of their own.

“What, are you a virgin or something? Why does it matter so much?” Bucky teases. He sneers at Steve before his face drops at the blond’s silence. “Holy shit-”

“Technically speaking, I’m not a virgin,” Steve rushes. Bucky pauses with his mouth open, as if his sentence is still going to come out without regard to Steve’s additional details. “But I am incredibly bad at nearly everything sex related.”

Bucky snorts and sits back in his chair, frosty eyes regarding Steve with an unreadable emotion. “You didn’t seem that bad at kissing, and you sure didn’t mind getting your dick sucked.” An older lady walking by their table frowns, and picks up her pace. Steve buries his head in his hands. Where was this guy’s off button? “How bad?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, the last girl I hooked up with asked me to stop after three strokes.”

The brunet winces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky looks him over, more calculatingly than pityingly. “You can’t be that bad, right?”

Steve huffs. “Clearly she thought so.”

They’re both quiet for a moment before Bucky claps his hands together. “Fine.”

“What?”

Bucky shrugs. “Fine. We can ‘hang out’, if that’s what you wanna do.”

Steve frowns. “I-is that what you wanna do? I don’t wanna pressure you into anything. I know I came off strong just a second ago.”

The brunet grins, and Steve feels a flood of relief at seeing his first genuine smile during their entire interaction. “‘S okay. I do want to sleep with you again.” 

Steve’s brain freezes as he replays Bucky’s last sentence. “You- I- so  _ why _ did you act like that?!”

Bucky barrels ahead, completely ignoring the question. “If you’re really as bad at sex as you say, Farmer Boy,” he reasons patiently, as if doing a math problem, “It’s my duty, as a slut, to help you.” Steve blinks. “I’ll take you under my wing and teach you everything I know.” He hesitates. “About men, that is. You’ll have to go somewhere else for chicks.”

Steve is about to say something else when someone calls his name. He looks up to find a girl from his algebra class waving him over to where two other people are setting up for a long, hard session of math. Ugh.

“I take it you have to go. So do I.” Bucky hands Steve his phone, and the dumbfounded blond looks down to see an empty contact page waiting for his information. “When you’re done, text me and come over to Boland. We can start today.”

Steve doesn’t know why he gives Bucky his phone number. He’s speechless. Bucky takes his phone back, unphased by Steve’s confusion, and taps at the screen briefly. Steve’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out to find an unknown number, presumably Bucky’s, has sent him an obscenely long line of phallic food emojis.

Bucky laughs at Steve’s reaction before standing. “I’ll see you later, Farmer Boy,” he says, knowing smile on his lips, before he leaves the cafe.

Steve puts his head in his hands and groans.

-

Steve shouldn’t do this. 

He knows he shouldn’t do this.

Nothing about this arrangement is remotely normal. 

He shouldn’t be getting ready to fool around with arguably one of the weirdest, most confusing people on campus. No matter how hot he is. 

And Bucky was really,  _ really _ hot. 

He was just so strange and unpredictable and casual about sex that Steve felt like he was going about this all wrong. 

Steve still finds himself typing out a shameless “I’m here” text to Bucky in the midst of his brooding. He watches Bucky send back a suggestive tongue emoji before locking his phone. He scrubs a hand over his face.

Why was he more eager to see Bucky after one encounter than Sharon after a few weeks of what had become something semi-serious? Why did he try so hard for Bucky after he made it obvious he (supposedly) wasn’t interested? Was he really about to take “sex lessons” from this guy? Who did that? What was wrong with him?

“Hi there.” Bucky’s voice makes him jump. Steve turns to find him looking softer and more mischievous than earlier that day. He looks more like the Bucky from the party. The change in attitude makes Steve relax a bit. “You ready?”

Steve smiles sheepishly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Bucky snorts, and beckons Steve to follow him up to his room.

-

“You have a single,” Steve says, too eager to break the silence.

Bucky snorts. “I’m aware. How convenient is that?”

“Very,” Steve breathes, mind racing. 

Bucky claps his hands together and perches himself on the edge of his bed, looking up at Steve. “What do you wanna do, Farmer Boy?”

“Why do you still call me that?” Steve mutters, chewing his lip in thought. It takes half a beat for him to nod his head. “I wanna return the favor for that blowjob last week.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, and Steve feels frozen under his gaze. He briefly wonders if Bucky is somehow doing that on purpose, if he knows how striking his eyes are and what they do to poor, innocent souls like Steve. He has to. “So sucking dick is the first lesson?”

Steve fidgets. “If that’s okay? I mean we can do whatever you want, I’m okay with-“

Bucky rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, kissing Steve briefly to shut him up. The blond watches in silence as Bucky unceremoniously unbuckles his belt, then unzips his  sinfully tight  jeans. He curses as he kicks them down his legs, hopping back and forth and nearly tumbling over. Steve frowns. 

He thought that this type of thing would have a lot more passion.

Finally, Bucky is down to his underwear, and Steve is looking at a girthy length with a flushed head and more interest than Bucky’s overall attitude would suggest. 

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, Steve,” Bucky murmurs quietly. Steve looks up to meet his concerned gaze. It would be comical how much caring Bucky looked with his dick out like that, but Steve’s thoughts were getting cloudy.

“Wha- I wanna do this, Bucky, trust me.”

Bucky folds his arms, and his erection bobs. Steve tries his hardest not to track the movement with his eyes. He feels like it’s important than he looks Bucky in the eyes so that the brunet can see how earnest and focused he is, and getting distracted by his dick probably wouldn’t help his case.

“I’ve never had anyone frown at my dick like that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and gently pushes Bucky down on the bed. He sinks down to his knees and pushes Bucky’s knees apart.

“Trust me,” he says slowly, taking Bucky in his hand. The brunet keens just a little. “I wanna do this.”

-

The instructions and suggestions that Bucky’s giving Steve as he goes down on him shouldn’t be hot, Steve thinks with a small, nagging bit of shame. They just shouldn’t. Bucky’s voice is blunt, low, and impassive. He sounds like a fucking surgeon, so Steve isn’t really sure why the bossiness is making him hard as hell.

“Careful with the teeth. Some guys are into them in moderation. I’m not one of them.”

“Your jaw is getting tired. I can feel it. Use your hand.”

“My balls are right there, Farmer Boy.”

“Relax your grip a little.”

“ _ Fuck _ , Steve,” That one was new. Steve watches Bucky’s eyes screw shut and his mouth drop open. He reaches out to grab onto Steve’s hair as his stomach muscles clench. “Keep doing that. Breathe through your nose.”

Steve obliges and runs through his last move again. He tongues at Bucky’s head while pumping him once, twice, three times and taking Bucky’s entire length in his mouth. The brunet yelps and lets out a long whine, pushing himself even deeper into Steve’s throat. The blond wills himself not to cough and relaxes his throat. He can do this. 

Absentmindedly, Steve wonders if Bucky fucked into his throat on purpose. Something tells him that it was impulsive, Steve just made him feel that good, and his ego gets a little bigger knowing he had that effect on someone.

And this smug little asshole  _ Bucky _ , out of all people.

Bucky tugs on Steve’s hair and looks down at him through lidded eyes. Bucky’s dick slides out of his mouth with a wet pop as Bucky pulls at his hair, and Steve knows he must look a mess right now: he can feel the tears pricking the corner of his eyes, and there’s a line of spit running down his chin. 

A small smile forms on Bucky’s face as the corner of his mouth lifts, and Steve quickly wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“You’re messy,” Bucky comments evenly. Steve’s face flushes.

“Sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, long fingers scratching at Steve’s scalp. His eyes close at the sensation on their own accord. “Don’t be. It’s hot.” And- well. That’s interesting.

“I’m close,” Bucky says, saving Steve from what was bound to become an awkward moment. “What do you wanna do?”

_ With my cum _ , isn’t the crass part that Bucky’s saying. Steve thinks a bit before shrugging. 

“You swallowed,” he mumbled. Bucky cracks a lazy, pre-orgasmic smile. “And it would be rude to get your sheets all messy, so…” Steve’s taking Bucky in his mouth again before the latter is ready, pumping him hard to climax. 

Bucky squeaks and tugs at Steve’s hair harder. His pants and moans and whines force Steve to palm himself and relieve some of his own tension.

A small curse and another sigh of Steve’s name is all he manages to get out before Steve’s mouth is filling with more and more warm goo. Huh. It’s not the best thing in the world, but he’s not complaining.

He pulls off of Bucky and wipes at his lips, watching the brunet gather his bearings. Bucky’s chest is heaving as he sits up. Steve snorts at his hair sticking up everywhere. Bucky gives him the finger. 

“You don’t look much better yourself, pal.”

“Wonder who’s fault that is.”

“C’mere,” Bucky beckons. Steve gets to his feet and let’s Bucky undo his pants and push them to the floor. His length is in Bucky’s hand faster than he can comprehend, and it doesn’t take long for him to spill all over Bucky’s fist and thighs. He winces at the mess. “Wanted to show you how thankful I am.”

Steve is shaky on his own legs for a minute before stumbling down on the bed next to Bucky, who simply snorts at him. “T-Thanks,” he sighs. 

Bucky shrugs. “Not bad for your first time. I need to get this cleaned up,” he says, sounding just as nonchalant as he did in the cafe. Steve frowns. He wasn’t ready for the change in mood again. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve says, moving to yank up his shorts. Bucky waves him off, sending him a crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, Farmer Boy,” he says. “You’ve earned your keep. Trust me.”

-

One of Steve’s older teammates slaps him on the ass after practice later that day. The hit itself isn’t too painful, but the movement is enough to jar him out of his vivid recollection of Bucky whining as he pushed his hips up into the air, driving his cock further into Steve’s mouth.

“Rogers! Saw you go upstairs with some leggy brunette at Odinson’s party! How was she?”

Steve doesn’t bother correcting him on the gender before stuttering out a reply. “Fantastic,” he says shorty, hoping he isn’t being prompted to go into too much detail.

Someone else hoots from somewhere in the locker room. “Did I just hear that Rogers finally got lucky?”

_ Lucky _ _?_ Steve sighs. “I honestly don’t even know.”

-

Steve finds Bucky in the quad the next day, typing viciously into a blank document.

He doesn't look up as Steve plops down ungracefully, huffing and sweating from his frantic run. 

“Hi,” Bucky says, and continues to type. 

“Bucky,” Steve pants. He pushes his floppy hair back from his forehead and silently curses himself. He feels so gross and enormous and monstrous next to Bucky’s slender, neat appearance. Steve’s never worried about someone finding him attractive as much as he has now. “Are you free tonight?”

Bucky snorts, gunmetal blue eyes still locked on his computer screen. Steve wants to rip his hair out at how casual the brunet is being. “Straight to the point, huh?”

Steve is nearly seething, and he doesn't know why. “Well, you don't really leave much room for a guy to get to romance you properly.”

Bucky pauses, and finally looks up. Steve’s mouth is dry. “Brooklyn?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Steve can’t help but feel a small victory at the small, amused smile pulling at the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “Me too.”

Steve full on grins at that, and he’s about to ask him about his favorite places to go when he’s home, what street he lives on, and maybe even more when Bucky claps his hands together determinedly, smile gone and neutral expression back in place. “So, tonight?”

Steve wants to sigh. So close.

“If you’re free, that is. I have PT until eight but I’m all yours after that.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “So you’re gonna be all sweaty?”

Steve tugs a suddenly self-conscious hand through his hair. “I mean, I was planning to shower first, so-”

Bucky hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Nah. Keep it. It’s hot.”

Steve knows it’s probably unattractive right now, but he can’t help but gawk at the brunet in front of him. 

Bucky full on laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners and shoulders shaking, and Steve is more overjoyed than confused. “I’m kidding, dear god, please shower first.” Steve’s shoulders relax. “You football players are absolutely putrid when you’re done.”

Okay, ouch, but Steve can’t even be offended. “How do you know I play football?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. Frantic, his eyes dart around. Finally he just shrugs and seems to shrink further into his computer. “I did some research,” he mumbles, and Steve can’t help the self-satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

“Is that right?”

Bucky scowls even harder. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rogers. Just had to make sure a fucking serial killer didn’t suck me off the other day.”

Steve stares flatly at him. “You have such a way with words, Buck. Truly.” 

Bucky beams. “Thank you,” he says, and Steve finds it really fucking annoying how cute he is. “Anyways, no rush after you get out of practice this evening, but-”

“How about you come over to mine instead?” Steve interrupts earnestly. Bucky frowns at him, and Steve winces. Yeah, that sounded weird. “That way you don’t have to clean your sheets up twice.”

Bucky blinks. “Or you could just stop blowing your load on them.”

Steve gapes, and Bucky laughs. “I’m kidding! Sure, I’ll come to yours. Don't get too tired throwing the ball to your groupies, or whatever."

Steve rolls his eyes. “You and I both know I’m not the one throwing the ball. Especially after all that  _ research  _ you’ve done.”

“Shut up, Steve.”

\- 

“You gotta use your eyes, Steve,” Bucky advises, and Steve feels deft fingers lifting his chin up. He’s staring into icy blue eyes, and the sensation is ridiculously intimidating. “Eye contact is hot. I wanna see how into it you are. When you don’t look at me if feels like we’re doing a business transaction. Like I’m supposed to Venmo you cum later.”

Steve snorts around Bucky’s dick in his mouth, and Bucky laughs out loud at the sensation.

“What do you wanna do today?” Bucky asks, and Steve shoots him a look. Did he not currently have the guy’s dick in his mouth or what?

He pulls off with an obscenely wet pop and immediately cringes afterwards. Bucky’s head lolls back slightly at the sound, and Steve absolutely makes a mental note of that. He pumps Bucky’s cock idly as he thinks. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t really thinking past the blowjob thing.” Bucky huffs out a tight laugh, and Steve eases his grip, glancing up apologetically. 

Bucky’s silent for a moment. “I could finger you?” He offers, and what feels like a million nerves bunch up in Steve’s stomach. He’d completely forgotten that was even an option.

“Y-yeah?” Steve answers, and shit, that didn’t even sound convincing to  _ himself _ . Bucky frowns.

“But only if you want to. We don’t have to do anything like that if it’s gonna make you uncomfortable.”

“No! It won’t, I promise,” Steve says earnestly. “It’s just-” He sighs and sits back on his knees, fingers still loosely gripping Bucky’s dick. If he wasn’t in the middle of a crisis, he might have found it comical that he was he was pouring his heart out to Bucky during the laziest handjob in the world. “I’ve never done that. To myself. Ever.”

Bucky just stares at him, and Steve tries his hardest not to squirm. “You’ve never fingered yourself before? Like even just to see what it feels like?”

Steve shakes his head silently.

“And you’re positive you want to do this?”

Steve nods his head vigorously. 

Bucky pulls him back up to eye-level and kisses him deeply. It’s really hot. “Lay on your back,” he instructs, and Steve obliges after removing his shirt.

Bucky bites his lip thoughtfully as he looks over Steve’s exposed skin. “Can I take your shorts off, too?”

Steve nods, watching him.

Bucky kisses Steve on the lips before trailing kisses down his neck, across his chest, and down his stomach and right above his dick. He watches Bucky push his shorts down his thighs enough to blow him for a quick second, then remove the annoying sons of bitches altogether. The brunet settles between his thighs and shoots Steve a teasing smile. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m fingering you, Steve. We aren’t going to fucking war. Lighten up a little.”

Steve opens his mouth to shoot something snarky right back at him, but all that disappears when Bucky takes half of his length into his mouth with no warning.

Steve figures his comment can wait.

Bucky’s blowjob is so damn good that Steve forgets what it’s leading up to.

His breath catches as nimble fingers part his cheeks and rub at his hole. He clenches before he knows better, and Bucky pulls of his dick, fixing him with an admonishing look. 

“Don’t tense up,” Bucky warns. “It’ll make everything more difficult, okay? Just relax.”

Steve nods, and breathes slowly, willing all of the muscles in his body to liquefy. Bucky starts sucking his dick again, but doesn’t remove his fingers from around Steve’s ass. When he finally relaxes, Bucky starts to push in. Steve’s eyes go wide as they maintain eye contact, and yeah,  _ that is really hot. _

Steve doesn’t know what he expected, but having a finger in his ass surprisingly isn’t the worst thing in the world. It’s not the pinnacle of orgasmic sensation, either, however. It’s mostly just there, stretching him open in a way that he’s not particularly used to. Bucky’s tongue rhythmic prodding at his hole makes it all the better, though.

It’s hot that Bucky wanted to do this to him and seems to be enjoying himself although he’s not really getting anything out of it. Steve doesn’t even think he’s rutting against the mattress. 

Steve’s dick jumps at the sudden removal of warmth as Bucky pulls off of him. “How does that feel?”

“Weird,” Steve answers honestly. “But I like it.”

Bucky smiles. “Wanna try another?”

“Sure- oh wow.”

Steve isn’t completely sure what happened between the first and second finger, but it’s exactly what he needed. He feels heat start to pool in the bottom of his stomach, and his heart seems to pick up the pace as Bucky’s pace starts to pick up. 

“T-that feels really good,” he gets out from behind clenched teeth as Bucky watches him, head resting against his thigh.

“Yeah?” Steve nods desperately. “Can you take another?” Bucky asks, sliding two fingers out torturously slow. 

The blond nods even more rapidly, screwing his eyes shut and bucking his hips up into the air.

“Yeah, Bucky,  _ please _ .”

Steve feels Bucky’s hair tickle the back of his leg as he kisses his thigh. “Tell me if it’s too much,” is about the only warning he gets before he’s being stretched even more, and Bucky’s  _ three _ fingers are going deeper and deeper and-

Oh.

Oh  _ shit _ .

“I think that’s your prostate,” Bucky supplies unhelpfully.

Steve feels  _ full _ , and he’s trying not to be too loud because the walls are thin and he doesn’t want his neighbors knowing what he’s doing right now but it feels so good and he doesn’t think he’s ever came as hard as he’s about to in his  _ life- _

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathes. “You’re gonna come just like this, aren’t you?”

Steve groans in reply. Bucky’s fingers move faster and harder.

“Come on, Steve,” he goads, and Steve’s breathing gets even more shallow. “Cum for me.”

With every drag on his walls as Bucky’s fingers pull out, Steve’s stomach clenches. The sensation is foreign and overwhelming, and he feels like he’s going to explode.

Just when he didn’t think it was possible, his walls give again, and Bucky notices immediately. He crooks his fingers and pumps even harder, whispering to Steve to  _ come on, go ahead, he’s doing so wel _ l, and suddenly he feels like he’s  _ falling- _

He cums in spurts, and lets out a low, long groan as Bucky leans over to swallow down his head, fingers continuing their relentless assault all throughout his orgasm.

Even when he stops and Steve can feel himself start to soften, Bucky’s still tonguing at his slit, fingers no longer moving but sitting stationary inside of him, and it’s too much. Steve’s thighs keep tightening and releasing, and he shakily places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Bucky- I-”

“Right, sorry,” he says, and carefully removings his fingers. He reaches for Steve’s shirt and starts dabbing at the little mess they’ve made. Steve’s too tired to protest. “I got a little carried away.”

“It’s completely fine,” he says tiredly. “Thank you.” Bucky snorts.

“Anything for you, Farmer Boy.”

Steve’s too out of it to dissect what that even means.

-

Steve insists on walking Bucky back to his dorm afterwards, and they are argue about logistics of the chicken or the egg coming first.

“Hey, Wendy!” A group of guys call out, presumably in what seems to be Steve and Bucky’s direction.

Steve looks over at them and frowns. “Are they yelling over here?”

Bucky follows Steve’s line of vision and hums. “Wendy? That’s me.”

Steve stops in his tracks, a few couple of feet in front of Bucky’s dorm building. “What?” He says again, and wishes he could stop sounding so  _ stupid  _ around Bucky, not for the first time that night. 

“Basically, I fucked four guys from that frat,” Bucky explains casually, and Steve tries his hardest to keep from sputtering. “Four for four. Like that thing at Wendy’s.” Bucky shrugs. “It kind of stuck.”

Steve sets his jaw, watching the boys continue to call out to Bucky. “That doesn't bother you?”

Bucky’s eyes cross over Steve’s face and stance impassively. “No,” he says evenly. “Does it bother you?”

Steve is quiet. Bucky sighs. 

“People are allowed to have a lot of sex, Steve.”

“It’s not that. They shouldn’t be treating you like that.”

Bucky blinks. “That’s incredibly noble of you, man, but I’ve got it. I promise.”

Steve doesn’t push it any further. For now.

Bucky scans Steve’s stiff posture and rolls his eyes. “Come on, Steve,” he admonishes, and steps forward to kiss Steve on the corner of his mouth. The blond feels his cheeks heat up, but other than that, he doesn’t give away a single reaction. “It’s not that big a deal. You know how guys are.”

_ That doesn’t make it right _ , Steve wants to argue, but he has a feeling that Bucky means it when he says he’s done with this conversation.

When Steve doesn’t fight back, Bucky gives him another once over and kisses him on the mouth this time. Steve isn’t stupid enough to pout his way through that one, and when they separate, Bucky looks more relieved. He leans in closer to Steve conspiratorially.

“Besides, all of them still hit me up regularly, so who really won here?”

Steve fakes an amused snort as Bucky winks at him and saunters into his own residence hall. He drops the forced half-smile as soon as Bucky turns his back.

That information doesn’t make him feel any better.

\- 

Everything becomes routine after that. Steve seeks Bucky out. They fool around. Bucky ignores him for a few days. Bucky gets bored of playing hard to get. They fool around again. The system repeats.

It’s not necessarily healthy, and Steve isn’t sure how everything is going to end, but he doesn’t really care. Bucky is hot and cool and fantastic at everything even remotely sexual, and he sucks dick like it’s going out of style.

Still. Steve wants to be friends outside of sex, and Bucky doesn’t necessarily seem up for that. He’s always leaving/kicking Steve out right after they finish, and he constantly shuts down Steve’s advantages to go on a date, or at the very least, hang out. Bucky only seems interested in Steve for his body (more specifically, his dick), yet Steve finds himself taking every opportunity he can to try and advance their…. Thing to something more. 

Steve pulls himself out of his own thoughts and glances over at Bucky as they walk through the university campus to Bucky’s dorm room. His full lips are pursed into a small frown as he taps away on his phone, not paying any attention to Steve. September wind blows strands of his hair into his face, and Steve can’t help but smile as Bucky curses lowly in Russian and tucks a couple locks behind his ear. It’s adorable.

Steve is probably going to get hurt at the end of all of this. He doesn’t really care.

“Rogers!”

Steve turns at the sound of his voice, and finds Sam jogging towards him and Bucky. He raises his hand as Sam nods at him briefly before his eyes slide over to the brunet on his right. Sam grins. “Really, man? I tell you to branch out and you find the worst bum on this entire campus?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoots Sam the bird. “Very funny, Wilson,” he deadpans. “You should really pursue your comedy career. Sucking at football is just holding you back.”

Sam motions between them. “So when did this start happening?”

Bucky shrugs. “Depends on if you wanna start with the suck-and-run at Odinson’s house party or the confusing hate sex after Natasha properly introduced us two weeks later,” Steve balks as the brunet snakes and arm around his waist and squeezes. “Either way, Stevie and I have been butt buddies for about a month now. He’s a fast learner.”

Steve squeaks. “Bucky-”

Sam holds up a hand. “Say no more. I’m proud of you, Steve. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Steve knows he’s probably beet red at this point. Bucky snorts. “He’s had a lot in him these past few weeks.”

“Bucky!”

Bucky just waves a dismissive hand in Steve’s general direction. Sam watches them in amusement. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey. Sam knows what’s up.”

Steve looks on as the pair exchange suggestive looks. Sam nods slowly, running his tongue along his lower lip as Bucky bites his own. Steve shifts uncomfortably. He feels like he shouldn’t be watching this exchange. It’s too intimate.

“Yeah. I’m  _ very _ familiar. Catch you guys later.”

Steve watches as Sam walks away, squeezing Bucky’s hip, and he watches as Bucky’s eyes follow Sam’s movements appreciatively, almost  _ wantonly _ , and-

Oh.

Steve is quiet as they continue their trek to Bucky’s dorm. “So, Sam,” Bucky hums, absorbed in his phone. “You guys?”

Bucky looks up abruptly, his look cutting Steve off more effectively than words. “Steve,” he sighs, and pockets his phone. He fishes out his ID and scans it. The small beep of the card reader and unlocking of the housing doors is the only sound between them for a moment. “Don't get your feelings hurt asking questions you already know the answer to,” he says flatly, and walks away from Steve’s stunned, hurt expression to push open the door. 

Bucky glances over his shoulder briefly to beckon Steve in. “Well? I don’t have all day. I have an essay to write.”

Steve gulps. 

There’s a painful silence all the way to Bucky’s room. Steve knows that he should leave, he knows that he doesn't feel entirely comfortable or happy being around Bucky right now, but his dick won’t let him. It was promised a good fucking, damnit, and that’s what he came here for. 

As they walk to Bucky’s dorm, it gets more and more uncomfortable. Steve doesn’t think he can do this. He sighs and looks down at his shoes as Bucky goes to unlock the door. He doesn’t think he can stomach one more dirty look from Bucky today.

“Listen, Bucky-” 

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” he rushes out, cutting Steve off completely. Steve’s head shoots up as he gives Bucky a surprised look, but he finds the brunet fixedly staring at his door knob and not him. “I was really mean today for no reason. I’m sorry.”

“I- it’s okay,” Steve says automatically, and immediately curses himself after. At least give the guy half a second of grief, Steve, Jesus.

“Were you about to go?”

Steve lies instantly. “I- oh, no.” Bucky doesn’t look convinced, so Steve keeps flapping his stupid gums. “Just gonna ask if you could top me today.”

If Bucky’s surprised underneath that gloomy, stoic demeanor, Steve doesn’t see it. He merely raises his eyebrows and looks at Steve close enough for him to start to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah. Sure. And you’re completely fine?”

“Me? Yeah.” _ I just think I’m falling for you, and it’s painfully obvious you don’t want me back. _

Bucky stares at him a little longer before finally nodding and opening the door to his room. “Okay, Farmer Boy. But be careful. It sort of hurts the first time and I don’t have any tissues to mop up your tears.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I can bench like two and a half of you. I think I’ll be fine.”

Bucky snorts. “Unless you’re repeatedly taking 400 pounds up your tiny asshole every time you hit the gym, I still don’t think you’re getting it,” he shoots back before walking into the room first, pulling his shirt over his head. “But still, it’s hot that you’re that strong. We should do something with that some time.”

-

Steve would rather do 20 sprint ladders in the hot sun than ever tell Bucky this, but the guy had a point.

It sort of hurt.

A lot.

Don’t get him wrong, he was prepped pretty well. Bucky did a good job, and the fingers felt good, but when it came time to actually put a dick in his ass, Steve couldn’t shake the ball of nerves that went along with his. He was scared of embarrassing himself in front of Bucky, scared of not being into this and then having a crisis about his sexuality, or even worse, turning Bucky off from the thought of even seeing him again.

It didn’t feel great at first, but then Bucky started thrusting, praising him quietly and touching Steve with more tenderness than he previously thought the brunet was capable of.

Ten minutes into it, Steve’s ass has stopped aching, and it’s actually starting to feel somewhat good, but he can’t help but wince when Bucky pushes in. After a few more times, Steve can totally understand why people get behind this bottoming thing.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good in his entire life.

Bucky hits him with a particularly deep stroke, and Steve can’t help the deep groan the action drags out of him. Bucky huffs out an amused laugh and grips his hips to fuck him harder, and Steve only gets louder. He reaches out lazily to find a pillow or something to cover his mouth and save his neighbors the show, but intense waves of pleasure keep interrupting his brain’s intended actions.

Bucky fucks into him hard, and Steve’s head seems to go fuzzy. He pants and pushes his chest out, hands shakily coming to brace against Bucky’s thighs and try and get away from the almost overwhelming feeling. 

Bucky’s faster than him, though, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat as Bucky’s nimble fingers encircle his wrists and pin him down to the bed with surprising strength. He whines as Bucky deals out a few punishing strokes relentlessly.

“Don’t run from me,” Bucky says cheekily, and Steve screws his eyes shut. He thinks he’s going to die here. He knows it.

Bucky leans down to kiss him, not letting go of his wrists and only fucking him harder. Steve’s hips start to buck up to meet him before he’s fully conscious of it, and the familiar heat brewing in his belly burns with such intensity that he’s nearly scared of his nearing orgasm.

“Bucky,” he chokes out brokenly, and the brunet huffs a strangled laugh into his mouth.

“I know, Steve,” he says, and Steve moans at the way Bucky says his name. “I can feel you.”

Between that little declaration and Bucky reaching down to cup his balls, Steve explodes. Bucky pulls back to watch him, and the non sex-sated part of Steve’s brain is thankful, because he’s 98% sure he would’ve left a nasty mark in Bucky’s lip with how hard he was biting down on his own.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky coaxes, and wraps a hand around Steve’s spent cock. He looks spacey as he watches Steve’s cum dribbles over his fingers and onto Steve’s insanely hot skin. Bucky doesn’t thrusting, and Steve has given up on trying to decipher his own incoherent babbling. He feels too good to be embarrassed.

Bucky finally stills after what feels like forever to Steve. He watches Bucky watch him, glazed eyes slowly coming back into focus. His hair is mussed, pupils blown, and his face is completely flushed. They stare at each other as Bucky’s breathing regulates quietly, little puffs of air coming out of his unconsciously parted mouth.

He’s gorgeous, Steve thinks, and leans up to kiss him while they’re still in the moment.

After Bucky cleans them up and both boys redress to an acceptable state, Steve flops back down on the bed, stupid grin on his face.

Bucky looks over at him with a small, amused smile on his own lips. “That good, huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “If you want me to wax-poetic about your dick, Bucky, you can just ask me.”

The brunet laughs. “I have yet to hear it,” he retorts, then looks over Steve in a startlingly grave way. “But seriously, how are you?”

Steve can’t stop smiling, and he feels like he’ll never come down from this high. “I’m great. I’ve never experienced anything that powerful or intense. It was amazing.”

Bucky snorts. “Alright, Robert Frost. Getting fucked in the ass is far from a spiritually awakening process.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it was with you.”

Bucky looks over at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Steve and his big fucking mouth.

He tries not to frown, smile, or make any emotion at all, really. It would be fucking great if he could disappear into the mattress right now. Although guarded, Bucky’s face seems somewhat vulnerable, and Steve doesn’t wanna scare him away.

Blue eyes search his own, and Steve tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip down to Bucky absentmindedly worrying his lip. Somehow this moment feels like something more than sex. 

Bucky opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut. He presses his mouth into a thin line and looks away. “I was serious about the essay.”

Steve tries not to let his shoulders slump too much. “Yeah, okay.” He gets to his feet shakily, ass still feeling a little raw, and makes his way towards the door.  “I have an exam coming up in Econ, and I told Sam I was gonna meet him in the library in half an hour.”

When he finally closes the door, Steve gets a little bit down the hallway before he has to lean against the wall, crippling regret smothering him as he replays that last exchange in his head over and over again.

_ Him and his stupid fucking mouth. _

-

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Sam says, and proceeds to be an asshole and take an exaggerated gulp from his water bottle. Steve scowls.

“Today would be nice, Wilson,” he grumbles, and leans further into his quad stretch as some sort of physical release.

“So you’re banging this dude not even knowing whether or not he likes you as a person? I didn’t take you for a masochist, Rogers.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that, though. I know he likes me as a person, I think. Well- see, for instance the other day, I told him he looked nice when we were in the library. He rolled his eyes, told me to shut up, and then left to go to the bathroom. Three minutes later, I get a text from him telling me to come to the bathroom, and the guy gives me a phenomenal blowjob. What am I supposed to make of that? I think-”

Sam is laughing too hard for Steve to finish his thought, and the blond frowns at him. “What’s so funny?”

Sam’s broad shoulders shake silently for another moment before he breathes again. He shakes his head and grins at Steve. “Dude,” he says between breaths. “You’ve got it so fucking bad.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but can’t bring himself to think of a sufficient retort. Was he supposed to lie and say that he doesn’t? That was just plain incorrect.

“I know,” he finally admits, and buries his face in his hands. “What do I do?”

“That’s the million dollar question isn’t it? Now, come on. Coach is eyeing us and I don’t feel like getting another lecture about us bullshitting on his time.”

-

Natasha’s teasing starts before Bucky even gets all the way in the cafe. 

“About damn time,” she says as he takes his sweet time getting to the table.

“That’s exactly why I don’t come on time, you demon,” he shoots back, bending down to kiss her cheek before taking his seat across from her. “How have you been?”

She shrugs. “I’m doing the best I can, I guess,” He grins as she slides a chocolate chip muffin over the table towards him. “And you?”

Bucky plays with the wrapper while he considers her question. How had he been? Engaging in some of the best sex and/or sex-related activities he’s ever taken part in with someone who might as well be a complete virgin? Not usually his style, but true. “I’m alright. My Russian foreign policy class is currently kicking my ass, but that’s mostly my fault.” Natasha nods and takes a dainty sip of her drink. “And I started hooking up with this guy Steve on the football team, and let me tell you, they might be onto something with all that running around shit because he can hold his breath-”

Natasha’s carefully detached look drops instantly. “Steve?”

He frowns. “...yeah?”

“Blond Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Football Steve?”

“Well, I told you that Natasha, so-”

Natasha searches his face in disbelief. “Holy shit,” she breathes. 

Bucky’s frown deepens. “What?”

She shakes her head as a small, amused smile forms on her lips. “You know, it actually makes sense that a sweetheart like Steve would get involved with a cunt like you.” Bucky pouts. “You two sort of fit together in a strange way. It’s sweet.”

Bucky grimaces. “We are  _ not  _ together. Trust me on that one.”

And Bucky proceeds to tell her about his sessions with Steve over the last few weeks.

“He’s just a big dumb puppy! I won’t text him back for like ten hours, and when I finally do, he responds within five seconds. Who does that?” She snorts. “And he’s always genuinely excited to see me no matter  _ what _ . He’s so frustrating and eager and…” He trails off, gesturing wildly, looking up to find Natasha watching him over the rim of her coffee cup with a perfect brow raised.

Bucky makes a face at her. “What?”

Natasha takes a long sip, drawing out the suspense, and Bucky sort of wants to scream. She finally finishes and looks over at Bucky again. “You like him.”

Bucky nearly does a dramatic spit take that would for sure get them kicked out of the cafe. “I’m sorry,  _ what _ ?”

Natasha shrugs. “Steve. You really like him.”

Bucky scoffs. “I like Steve’s dick, ass, and tits, in that order.” He sees two girls at a table a few feet away look over at him in surprise, but he doesn’t care. “Nowhere in my rant did I say that I liked  _ Steve _ .”

The redhead purse her lips. “You didn’t _have_ to, James. That’s the point.” She crosses her arms at sits back in her chair, analyzing him. “It’s written clear as day all over that cute little face of yours.”He scowls. She’s pulling her sociology shit on him and he doesn’t like it. “You know how I feel about relationships.”

Condescendingly, Natasha nods. “You make a point to tell me every time you hook up with someone, so yes, I know that you hate commitment and communication and consistent sex with the same person.” Bucky feels slightly offended at her curt observation. She’s making him sound like a heartless slut, which he sort of is, but still. No need to say it. “I also know that you never usually spend time outside the bedroom with the people you sleep with. You don’t do study dates and coffee and go to their football games.”

Sheepishly, Bucky shifts in his chair. “Is it a crime to want to look at him when I’m not sucking his dick? You’ve seen him.”

Natasha shrugs. “Fair point. But you also haven’t dropped him even though he clearly wants this thing to go farther than just sex.”

Bucky wants nothing more than to end this conversation because he knows where Natasha is going with this. He knows that she’s right, but he also knows that she won’t let up until he folds. He’s still not going down without a fight, though. “No, I haven’t.”

“Usually, you would have by now. You said you don’t have time for anyone’s feelings.”

“Because I don’t, Natasha. I haven’t even given him the time of day whenever he tries to steer us in that direction.”

“Is that because you don’t want him to? Or because you don’t trust yourself not to hurt him, even though you want this to be something more?”

Bucky’s quiet.

Natasha frowns at him. “You really shouldn’t fuck this up, Bucky.” He knows she’s being serious when she calls him by his preferred name. “I think he could be pretty good for you.”

Bucky doesn’t allow his brain to process that sentence and overthink it to bits. The lie is out of his mouth before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. “There’s nothing to fuck up, Natasha. No strings attached to any of this.”

“Yeah, okay, James,” She rolls her eyes. Bucky grits his teeth. She knows how much he hates that. “You keep doing this little dick and dash routine and see how well it works out for you. Spoiler alert: it won’t.”

He ignores her in favor of angrily pinching at his muffin. 

“Now, let’s talk about what we really came here for.” Natasha smiles with all of her white teeth and rests her chin atop folded hands. Bucky thinks she would be cute if she didn’t look like she was ready to kill him at any given moment. “Tell me about your friend Misty.”

-

When Bucky mentions his Russian oral presentation to Steve out of one of their hookups, the last thing he expect the kid to do is actually show up.

Bucky’s feeling pretty- no, extremely - confident about his presentation. He knew about that son of a bitch Czar Nicholas II better than anyone he could think of, and he’d been working on his pronunciation all of yesterday evening. This A was in the bag.

He’s going over his last few lines in his head, too caught up in the assignment to think too much into Steve asking which small auditorium his class was in. Why would the oaf care? He had practice or film day or something jockish when he was going anyway. It wouldn’t be relevant to him in the slightest.

When his teacher gives him the good-to-go, Bucky takes the stage and clears his throat. He’s about to put everyone in this class to shame.

The presentation starts out perfectly. He’s rolling all of his r’s and speaking with the perfect about of conversational gusto, gesticulating earnestly and sending everyone in the audience charming smiles.

His teacher laughs at one of his cheeky jokes, the one he almost threw out. 

Bucky beams proudly. Piece of cake.

Then Steve comes in.

Bucky’s smile drops instantly as he watches his giant lover navigate his way to a seat in the very back, thankfully far away from anyone else in his class. Steve plops down in his chair, but not before Bucky gets a good eyeful of him: sweaty, muscles taut, face flushed. He must have come straight from practice.

He looks like a Greek god, and Bucky is gonna fail this fucking presentation. 

Bucky feels like he’s babbling. He thanks any god listening that he basically knows this thing by heart because his brain has been offline for a good thirty seconds now. He can’t focus on anything but how good Steve is gonna look fucking him into the mattress roughly twenty minutes from now, and he hates himself for it.

He watches Steve stretch, and a sliver of shimmering skin winks at him. Bucky grits out the last part of his presentation and promptly exits the stage, ignoring the polite applause of his classmates.

“Good job, Mr. Barnes,” his teachers says, and he forces a smile on his face, glancing over her shoulder to glare at Steve, still sitting there looking like something off of a porn website. “It’s normal to stumble over the subjunctive mood a little bit,”  _ Bucky is fuming _ . “But you did great. You’re free to go.”

“Cпасибо, девушка Kuznetov.”

Bucky storms out of class with Steve trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

Bucky is mumbling under his breath, cursing in Russian and calling the stupid blond behind him every awful name in the book.

Leave it to Steve to come to Bucky’s oral presentation looking freshly fucked and hot and big and sweaty and just too much, costing him what would have otherwise been a near-perfect project.

Leave it to Bucky to  _ let _ him.

“Bucky?” Steve questions hesitantly. He ignores him as they make their way to his room. “A-are you mad? What happen-”

“You  _ cannot _ ,” Bucky starts, and sighs and backs off once he sees Steve’s terrified, confused expression. “Just come into my class looking like…  _ that _ .”

Steve frowns. “Like what?”

Bucky scowls. “Don’t play dumb, Farm Boy.”

Steve’s silent, and Bucky groans.

“Like something out of fucking ESPN! I don’t know. You know what you being sweaty does to me.”

Steve looks at him, shellshocked for a moment, before a cocky grin breaks out slowly onto his face. Bucky glowers.

“So you think-”

“Shut up,” Bucky orders, and pushes him into the room. “You’re being annoying.”

“Apparently, I’m just completely irresistible,” Bucky doesn’t like Steve teasing him, he doesn’t. He swears. “Sorry for ruining your project, Bucky.”

“I’m getting you back for this,” Bucky mumbles against his lips as he jerks Steve faster. Steve groans in response.

-

They lost.

And it was Steve’s fault.

He knows that Sam, the coach, and all of his teammates will say that it wasn’t him on Monday. They’ll blame it on the mouthy tight end on the other team, the ref that was obviously in on it, on the fucking weather.

Everything but Steve fucking up when he shouldn’t have.

He doesn’t even wanna think about the specifics of it. The game is done and the score is final, and he feels like shit for costing his team everything.

Bucky sighs and pokes at his thigh with a socked toe. “Are you done, Eight Mile? I’m sort of dying over here, and I wanna suck your dick.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Bucky. You don’t understand.”

Bucky makes an annoyed sound and tugs at Steve’s shirt. “That doesn’t matter! I’m trying to make you feel good, and you’re being a baby. Cock is way better than football anyway.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Steve grunts, pulling Bucky’s tiny shirt over his head. He pushes as Bucky’s shoulders roughly, and the brunet nearly folds in half. Steve mutters a quick apology, mortified.

“Bucky! I’m so-”

“Steve Rogers, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to die,” Bucky warns, and it sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth. “Please, don’t stop being rough.”

Steve blinks for a second as his body reboots. “I- yeah I can do that. Let’s go.”

Prep is quick and easy, both of them too caught up in the moment to really pay attention to specifics. Bucky’s pants disappear, Steve’s follow suit, and suddenly they’re both gasping as Steve slides into tight, tight heat, and his hand is coming to wrap around Bucky’s throat.

When he feels Bucky’s feverish moan rumble under his fingers, Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You alright?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “I’m perfect. Call me a slut.”

“What?”

“I wanna be your slut, Steve. Do it.”

“Alright… whore?”

Bucky somehow finds enough attitude to roll his eyes although Steve is literally balls-deep in him.

“Come on, Steve. Like you mean it. Think about the game. Think about how you’re angry and I’m the only thing you can take it out on. Use me.”

At the mention of the game, Steve sees red.

“Dirty fucking slut,” Steve spits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Oh,” he says smally, and Steve falters. Bucky hits his bicep vigorously. “No, no! Keep going. You’re doing great.” 

Steve nods, and starts to move inside of him. “Probably couldn’t wait for me to lose this game. You like seeing me angry.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Bucky says, and he sounds like he’s a hundred miles away to Steve. His eyes flutter shut as Steve’s other hand grips his hip with bruising force, keeping him right where he is.

“You love that. Watching me get so mad just so I can come here and use you, huh? You like that?”

“Yes, yes, god,” Bucky croaks out, and Steve pinches his side. He moans loudly, and scrambles for the sheets. He looks at his hand, clasped around Bucky’s throat as the other man’s eyes water and his mouth drops open into a hot, open “o”. This won’t last long.

“So- desperate- for- it-” Steve grits out, punctuating every word with a hard thrust that has Bucky keening. He squeezes around Bucky’s throat for effect, and that appears to be all it take for the brunet to release, loud and messy, right between them.

“Please, Steve, give it to me,” he begs, and pulls Steve over the edge with him.

Steve pulls out of him carefully, breathing hard. He sits down on the bed beside Bucky’s trembling legs. Bucky can feel his own chest rising and falling and his heart pounding in his ears.

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

-

Fifteen minutes later, when Steve insists on walking Bucky back to his dorm, he still can’t believe that happened.

“You know,” Bucky says, eyes forward as his feet shuffle forward. “I have no idea what goes on in football whatsoever.” 

“I know, Bucky,” Steve quips thoughtfully. “I appreciate you anyway.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “What gave it away?”

Steve is quiet, and Bucky looks over at him. The blond grins blindingly at him. “You asked me what inning we were in when the game ended.”

“I was sort of being sarcastic,” Bucky grumbles, but Steve is laughing too hard to notice.

Steve tickles Bucky’s side to get a reaction out of him. He frowns when he sees Bucky wince, pink lips turned into a pout. He searches Bucky’s eyes for a second before realization dawns across his face. 

Bucky gawks at the confident - no, straight up  _ cocky _ \- Steve Rogers grinning at him. He’s never seen Steve knowingly have the upper hand in any of their exchanges. Steve knowing that he has the ability to have this effect on Bucky, has the ability to absolutely  _ ruin _ him, is absolutely terrifying.

Bucky’s at a lost for words.

(And a little turned on, if he’s honest.)

Before he can think of a witty comeback to knock Steve’s ego down a few pegs (Bucky’s  _ absolutely _ willing to lie about not getting the best dick in his short life if it means that he’ll get his sweet, innocent farm boy Steve back), the bulky blond invades his space. Because of the night’s events, Bucky’s body seems to instinctively press itself into Steve’s chest. Steve lets him, and he looks down at Bucky. He drags his index finger along the collar of Bucky’s shirt - Steve’s actually; the other one got ripped - and peeks down at Bucky’s chest, looking at the smattering of hickies glaring against Bucky’s pale skin.

Steve’s smile gets even wider, and Bucky feels his cheeks heat up. “I got a little carried away, huh?” Steve chuckles. Bucky narrows his eyes. “But you like that, don’t you?” Bucky’s bitchy facade lasts for two seconds. Steve’s question has him feeling sheepish. He shrugs and looks away. Steve kisses his cheek and grabs his hand to squeeze it. “Sorry about the bruises, babe,” Bucky will never admit to anyone that he loves that. “I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow to make up for it, yeah?”

Bucky doesn’t have a snarky response. His knees feel wobbly. “Uh, yeah, Rogers,” he croaks, and clears his throat. When did that even happen? “Tomorrow.”

He tries to keep some dignity and downplay his limp as he turns to go into his dorm building. His mind can’t think of anything but Steve as he makes his way up to his room.

Bucky closes his door and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He needs to seriously reconsider this whole friends-with-benefits thing.

-

They’re studying in the library when Steve decides to fuck up Bucky’s life a little bit more. 

“Do you have plans tonight?”

Bucky couldn’t have heard that right. He looks up from his own assignment and across the table to find Steve peering at him from behind his laptop. “What?”

Steve clears his throat, frowning at Bucky’s rough tone. “Tonight. What are you doing?”

Two trains of thought split at different avenues in Bucky’s brain. One side tells him to shut this shit down  _ now _ , let this big slab of meat know that you’re here for his dick and his  _ dick _ only, no matter how charming and adorable he may be. Another side is squealing like his kid sister, yelling at Bucky to take this chance and spend a wonderful evening with his best guy.

Bucky is fully ready to tell Steve to mind his own business, but his tongue doesn’t seem to get the memo. “What did you have in mind?”  _ Damnit _ .

Steve blinks rapidly, as if he expected Bucky to say no. “Trailhead at SUNY ESF. It’s supposed to be pretty clear tonight.” The blond gulps. “We could get pizza and pick out constellations.”

After a beat of silence, Bucky’s brain finally processes the  _ cutest _ date proposal he’s ever received. “You really wanna get dinner and go stargazing?”

It might be the first time Steve’s heard his idea out loud, because he ducks his head, a sheepish side smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Bucky’s torn between wanting to wrap his hulking figure in his arms and kissing him senseless and spreading Steve out on their table and showing everyone just how thankful he is. 

Still, the blond shrugs, eye contact unwavering. “With you? Of course.”

Suddenly, the library feels much smaller. Bucky can’t smell his strong, black coffee, can’t feel the friction of students sliding past the back of his chair, can’t hear pages rustling. He can’t seem to focus on anything except the eager look on Steve’s face.

“Yeah, Farmer Boy.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and tugs a little, trying to ground himself. “I would really like that.”

Steve’s blinding smile feels like a punch in the gut to Bucky’s recovering sanity. “I’ll text you all the details, but it starts at seven. Dinner’s on me. Cool?”

“Cool,” Bucky breathes, and has to rub at his eyes a few times to make sense of the paper in front of him.

-

Bucky stares at himself in the mirror, frowning as he pulls on his sleeves. 

How the hell did he let himself get talked into going on a date? Bucky didn’t go on dates.

He scowled at his stupid face as he fixed his hair.

He was getting really tired of breaking all of his rules for Steve. It was giving Bucky… feelings, and he wasn’t too crazy about that. It got in the way of sex.

He just had to make it clear to Steve that they were going on this very romantic and intimate outing together  _ strictly _ as friends. Easy.

-

“You made a playlist?” Bucky says in disbelief when Steve offers him an earbud.

Steve’s hand waivers as he looks around sheepishly. “Yeah.”

Bucky thinks it’s cute. Really cute. But he can’t figure out how to express that, and he can tell that it’s making Steve nervous. He wishes he could stop. He means to tell Steve how dorky and thoughtful that was, and he would be happy to listen to his douchebag gym bro music as they looked at the stars.

“Why?” he says instead, like a complete idiot. Steve’s hulking shoulders droop.

“Did you want to stare at the stars in silence and listen to people try and bang quietly next to us?”

Bucky snorts, and some of the tension in Steve’s shoulders finally dissipates. He’s beaming when Bucky takes the earpod and nods in approval at the song he’s playing.

Stop being a bitch, Bucky, he scolds himself as he walks with Steve Steve down the trail. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel like that voice in his head was going to get him into a hell of a lot of trouble later on.

-

“There’s no way you were ninety pounds on your sixteenth birthday.”

Steve laughs, and turns his head to grin at Bucky. “I swear! My mom has pictures and everything.”

Bucky feels his gaze and turns to give him a skeptical look before scoffing and turning back to look at the night sky. “Pictures can be doctored, Farmer Boy.”

“Are you saying my own mother is a liar?”

“I’m saying she loves you enough to help you propel forward a false narrative. There’s no way you didn’t come out of the womb benching eighteen wheelers.”

Steve sighs in fake exasperation. “Wrong again. I started out benching sedans. Humble beginnings, just like anyone else.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m hurt. You ask me to tell you something about myself and you give me shit for it.”

“Because you fucking lied. So now it’s my turn.”

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“You should be familiar by now.”

Their laughter dies down as they look back up at the sky.

“Your arm.”

“Huh?”

Steve looks away from the constellations to find Bucky frowning at him. Absentmindedly, Steve lets his gaze fall to Bucky’s pouty lips. He wants to reach over and kiss him, wants to feel Bucky sigh into his mouth when he pulls at his hair like he likes. “I always wondered what happened to your arm.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow and wiggles his flesh fingers in front of Steve’s face. “I was born with it. I’m half USB on my dad’s side.”

“Bucky.”

The brunet sighs and looks back up at the sky. He’s tense, and Steve wants to put his foot in his mouth. He shouldn’t have asked. They didn’t have that sort of relationship, and Steve should have known better. “Listen, I shouldn’t have-”

“Car accident when I was visiting family in Indiana. I was ten.” Bucky cuts him off with forced words. Rushing as if they won’t come out if he doesn’t push them. Steve watches Bucky screw his eyes shut and wet his lips. “It wasn’t our fault. The other guy was doing fifty-five in a twenty like a damn  _ lunatic _ and-” Bucky flexes the prosthetic. “I don’t remember a lot of it. Blocking out traumatic experiences, and all that. Dunno. Not my major.” He snorts bitterly. “But the dude was pretty fucking loaded and wanted to somehow make up for cutting off a little kid’s arm. Hence this,” the metal catches in the moonlight, its gleam seemingly taunting both of them. “It’s fantastic technology, and I still keep up with the guy for maintenance and everything, but it’s not the same.”

The playlist has stopped now, and the silence between each of Bucky’s staccato confessions rings loud in Steve’s eardrums. 

“I know I’m incredibly lucky to even have an arm to complain about, but I just can’t help but still feel abnormal. I feel like a cyborg.” Bucky doesn’t know where this is coming from. He hasn’t admitted this to anyone - hell, to  _ himself _ \- in years. “It’s sort of ugly.” He finished in a small voice, looking anywhere but at Steve.

Bucky’s words hang in the air between them like dead weight. Steve clears his throat. Bucky sniffles. Steve shifts. Bucky fidgets.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Steve’s fingers find their way to Bucky’s. The metal is warm, and dozens of tiny machines - maybe even thousands, Steve thinks - whir and click and twist and whine beneath its surface. Not loudly, no, Steve can’t even hear it. He feels it. Pulsing. Here. Alive. Bucky. 

He brings Bucky’s fingers up to his lips and kisses each fingertip softly. Bucky watches him quietly, biting at his bottom lip. 

“It shouldn’t matter at all to you, but I think you’re beautiful. And you should think you’re beautiful because you are.”

Bucky tries not to let his jaw hang open for too long. He watches Steve’s lips ghost over his prosthetic for a short moment longer before taking his hand back, but not far enough to detangle from Steve’s. He snuggles closer into his side and looks up at the stars again, smile breaking wide across his face as Steve’s arm comes down around him.

“Thanks, Steve.”

-

About two seconds after that little Degrassi moment, Bucky decides he’s going to suck the soul out of Steve’s dick.

Roughly five seconds after said Degrassi moment, Bucky relays this conclusion to Steve, who heartily jumps on board. 

Ten minutes later, they’ve downed the rest of their meal and started high-tailing it back to Steve’s room to act on Bucky’s plan.

Steve leads Bucky back to his dorm in a charged silence. They move quickly through the campus, huddled close together and hands clasped even tighter. 

Bucky can feel himself getting hornier by the minute. Has the walk back to Steve’s room always been this long? He nearly sighs in relief when they finally get up the stairs and nearly break the door off of its hinges trying to close it.

Bucky barely has time to get his coat off before Steve is sliding a hand in his hair and bringing their mouths together. He tastes like cotton candy they shared. “I want you so bad,” he whispers, and the bass in his voice goes straight to Bucky’s groin. “So fucking bad, Bucky.”

“I’m right here, Steve,” Bucky says, and pulls him into another searing kiss. “All yours.” Bucky’s too high on arousal to regret anything he’s saying.

Steve bites his lip just hard enough to make Bucky groan. Just how he likes. He smiles against Bucky’s mouth, cocky and knowing, and starts walking them backwards towards his bed. “All mine.”

Clothes seem to disappear in a blur. Steve puts Bucky on his back and hovers over him like a cloud. Bucky takes Steve out of his underwear, head angry and erect, and has every intention of tending to it. He moves to get a better grip, but Steve bats his hand away. Bucky frowns up at him, but Steve just shakes his head and 

“You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?” Steve praises as he kisses Bucky. “You have no clue. 

Bucky should be more embarrassed at how easily his legs fall open at Steve’s compliments.

Steve’s fingers circle his hole, and his index finger dips in experimentally. Bucky hisses as he slips in up to his second knuckle.

He starts a steady pace, and Bucky can’t stop babbling his praises until Steve finally replaces his fingers with his dick. He feels like he’s on fire.

Steve slides in slowly, and they groan in unison. He’s motionless for what feels like an eternity and Bucky starts to get restless. 

“Steve,” he whines, and arches his back.

“Beg for it.”

Bucky’s brain short-circuits. 

“Steve-”

“Show me how bad you want it,  _ James _ .”

Bucky’s head drops back down onto Steve’s pillow. 

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Steve’s hands have his hips in a vice, but it’s his gaze that’s really got Bucky stuck in place. Thin, baby blue rings encircle Steve’s wide, blown pupils, and pink lips are shiny and raw from Bucky’s ministrations. Dark hickies stand out on Steve’s chest like badges of honor, and Bucky watches in awe as his stomach muscles flex. They expand and contract in spasms, and Bucky realizes that Steve is trying his hardest to restrain himself. 

Trying his hardest to not get rough with Bucky like he did that time in the locker room.

Bucky should be thankful because he knows how strong Steve is and how much he can make it hurt, but that’s all he wants right now.

“Steve,” Bucky calls out, and he doesn’t know why his voice is so small. Steve doesn’t seem to hear him at first, eyes flickering between Bucky’s face and watching his dick slide in and out of Bucky, but the brunet tries again. “Steve,” he pants again, and scrambles to grip a pillow after the blond rolls through a particularly deep stroke.

Steve’s head shoots up, and his brow wrinkle in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

He’s apologizing profusely and moving to pull out when Bucky grips his forearm. Hard. 

“You don’t have to hold back, Steve,” he says softly, tone completely contradicting the vice-like grip he has on his arm. “I can take it.”

Steve looks down at him, worry-lines deepening, and Bucky finds himself reaching up to smooth them out with his other hand before he even fully thinks through the gesture. “Are you sure?”

Bucky nods, and leans up to brush his lips softly over Steve’s. “I want you to ruin me, Steve,” he whispers, and that seems to do the trick. 

Steve roughly fucks into him for three strokes before adjusting them. Bucky has to bite down on his giddy, drunken giggle as Steve manhandles him into a new position.

“What’s funny?” Steve pants.

Bucky shakes his head. “Just excited,” he says vaguely, and squeaks as Steve damn near folds him in half, holding his thighs wide open.

For a second, Steve doesn’t move, and instead looks down at Bucky, wet and raw and open for him. Bucky flushes even though he shouldn’t. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s more nervous that it’s Steve looking at him like that and less about him being completely exposed to his lover. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. Steve snorts.

“Hey,” Steve says evenly, and proceeds to hold Bucky wide open as he fucks into him.

At every light nudge against his prostate, Bucky’s vision seems to get more and more blurry. He’s going to cum soon, and he nearly whines at the realization. He doesn’t want this to end.

Steve pauses for a minute, and Bucky finally realizes that Steve looks just as wrecked as he feels. He looks nearly lost in it, and he sways slightly. A small, logical voice in the back of Bucky’s brain panics as a giant specimen starts to fall on top of him, but he doesn’t care. Steve catches himself at the last minute, pressing their chests together tenderly and bracketing his forearms around Bucky’s head before he resumes fucking the shit out of him.

Bucky can’t breathe. His orgasm feels like it’s about to hit him like a bus, and he’s trembling so hard he can’t even wrap a hand around himself.

“Close,” he croaks, and Steve huffs an amused laugh into his mouth as they kiss again.

Steve leans up, and Bucky whines at the loss of heat on his chest, but immediately shuts up when  _ Steve fucking Rogers, his Farmer Boy, wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes _ .

“Come for me, James,” he orders, and that’s all it takes.

Bucky’s neighbors must truly hate him.

“You’re amazing,” Bucky slurs when he finally comes down, and Steve snorts as he leans down to kiss him sweetly. He doesn’t even register him pulling out. He feels like he’s on every drug in the world. “You make me feel so pretty.”

Steve hums as he presses his palm lightly against Bucky’s throat, eagerly returning the kiss. “I think it’s time for you to sleep, babe,” he notes.

Bucky doesn’t register the dopey smile on his face until Steve ties off the condom and walks away from the bed completely. When he does, it disappears almost instantly. 

He’s so  _ fucked _ . 

-

Bucky knows he has to tell Steve.

He walks to class feeling numb, barely registering the brisk wind whipping around him. 

He absolutely has to tell him. Bucky can’t go on like this.

He scowls and wraps his jacket tighter around him, the weather finally hitting him during a brief moment of mental clarity.

Bucky can’t decide who he’s more frustrated with: Steve or himself.

He’s incredibly frustrated with Steve and his boyfriend-like tendencies that don’t seem to be turning Bucky off like they usually do. It’s terrifying. Steve is a genuinely  _ nice  _ person that’s into Bucky and  _ cares  _ about him, and that within itself is terrifying.

Bucky should be fucking ashamed of himself. He knows how he is and how this sort of thing usually shakes out for him. He has no business taking advantage of someone as wonderful as Steve and also continuing to turn down their advances when he wants to do the exact opposite. He just can’t seem to stop being his own worst enemy.

Most of all, Bucky is scared. He knows that he could have Steve if he wanted to, and that’s too much pressure to endure. It would hurt more to continue this thing and have it end even worse later on down the road when they’re both in too deep.

At that last realization, Bucky stops in his tracks. He presses his mouth into a thin line as he thinks. After a moment, he decides to skip class altogether, and reaches for a cigarette.

One thing left to do, then.

-

Steve comes over a few days later. Bucky has a plan to tell him exactly how he feels, has a plan to be an adult about this and discuss what they should do now. 

But then Steve took his dick out and it became harder to talk about feelings and what not, and now they’re fucking.

Bucky climbs into Steve’s lap and lets himself be lowered down onto his cock, too wrapped up in his own head to hear Steve murmur his praise, telling Bucky how tight he is and how good he takes it. Bucky’s body moves on its own, arms wrapping around Steve’s neck and hips grinding in time to meet Steve’s thrusts. He hears himself respond, feels the sharp intake of breath as Steve sets a slow, brutal pace, but Bucky can’t seem to come back to Earth mentally.

He hates himself. That’s why he let this thing get as bad as he did. He’s an awful person, and he’s been too selfish, too obsessed with the physicality of the situation to think about the repercussions. No-strings-attached has never worked for Bucky, and it sure as hell wouldn’t start now. He was a mess.

He’s also scared. Too scared that Steve may like him back, too scared that they may become something more. Bucky knows he would fuck it up. He’s good like that. He can’t have anything nice, hence why he’s treating the best guy he’s ever been with like absolute shit. That relationship - or  _ whatever _ it would become - would ruin Bucky even more. He would be a shell of his former self.

And Steve. Sweet, caring, understanding Steve-

Bucky feels tears prick his eyes.

-

Bucky gasps and clutches Steve closer, buries his head in the crook of Steve’s shoulder as he fucks up into him. Steve feels Bucky’s hot, short breaths ghost across his skin, and he closes his eyes. He hugs Bucky’s body closer to his, one hand snaked around his waist and the other clutching the back of his neck, keeping them completely plastered together. Bucky isn’t as vocal as he usually is, curses and moans substituted for breathy sighs and whimpers. Steve can feel Bucky’s blunt nails dig themselves a little deeper into his back whenever Bucky’s cock drags particularly wetly against both of their stomachs. 

It just feels so right.

That’s why he frowns when he feels a flat pool of moisture dampen his neck. 

Steve’s hips falter a little, and come to a complete as something he’s sure is a sob racks through Bucky’s body.

“You alright?” Bucky nods, but Steve isn’t convinced. He doesn’t move, and Bucky starts moving himself up and down his cock. Steve grits his teeth and tries not to let his train of thought get lost in Bucky’s tight heat. It’s easier said than done, and he brings both hands around Bucky’s waist in an attempt to ground himself.

“Buck,” Steve murmurs, trying to pull Bucky back to look at his face. The brunet simply shakes his head and ruts harder against Steve until he goes completely still.

“Fuck,” Bucky croaks, and he’s coming before either of them seem to notice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, over and over again, clenching around Steve, and it’s not long before the blond teeters right over the edge with him.

Steve still isn’t completely sure what happened. He maneuvers Bucky off of him and carefully places him on his back, getting up to tie off the condom and look for a towel. Bucky stills seems to be in a completely different headspace when Steve returns with a wet rag and throws the brunet’s legs over his shoulder, cleaning him out carefully.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Steve says, looking down at Bucky, taking in his wrecked appearance: flushed skin, blown pupils, wild hair. “About anything.”

Bucky stares back at him with that same guarded expression from weeks earlier. Steve isn’t sure if Bucky heard him, but he’s too scared to say it again. He busies his shaking hands with making sure Bucky is clean enough to not be uncomfortable, and starts puttering around the room to collect his clothes. He needs to go to the gym and get that face out of his mind. 

“We can’t do this anymore.”

Steve is pulling on his shorts when Bucky’s words finally register. His head snaps up to find the brunet still naked on his bed, body motionless. “What?”

Bucky sits up, looking at the floor. He gestures between them. “You. Me. This… thing.” He shrugs. “I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

Steve feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He knew this was coming, but it still hurts all the same. “Okay, Bucky. That’s fine.” He pulls on his shirt and backs up a few paces. Suddenly, Bucky felt completely untouchable. “Can we talk about it? Did I do something?”

Bucky still won’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I just don’t think this is something that either of us should be doing. You’re getting attached, and that’s not good.” Steve feels a lump in his throat. “We said this wasn’t anything more than sex, Steve.”

Steve nods dumbly. “You’re right. I took it too far.” Bucky’s quiet. “I’ll go. You can text me.” He makes his way towards the door, stopping before he opens it. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

“At least the last time was the best time, right?” 

Steve leaves Bucky’s room without giving him a response.

-

Steve and Bucky go a painful two weeks without talking to each other. Bucky fails a test. Steve loses a game. It’s too quiet and too much and not enough.

-

Bucky is laying on his bed, halfway through his seven-hour long “sad” playlist when Natasha opens the door to his room.

“I don’t remember you having a key,” he says evenly, not even looking away from the ceiling.

“I made a copy,” she retorts, and drags Misty in the room along with her. Bucky can’t even find it in him to give them shit about whatever thing they have going on. 

“Pretty sure that’s illegal,” he retorts boredly, and Misty cuts him off.

“Cut the shit, Barnes.” He finally looks over at his friends to find them both looking at him with a mix of worry and frustration, hovering close to where he’s laying on his bed. “What the hell is your problem? People are saying you haven’t been to class in like three weeks.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s been two.”

Natasha cuts in with more emotion he thinks he’s ever heard in her voice. “What’s with you? Is this about Steve?” 

When Bucky doesn’t respond, they both sigh and join him on the bed. He finds his head in Misty’s lap, and tells them everything as she cards through his hair.

“I fucked up,” Bucky says sullenly, and feels a fresh wave of guilt and embarrassment wash over him as his voice breaks on the last word. He studied his shoes, careful to avoid making eye contact with Misty and Natasha. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

He turns his watery gaze on Natasha, who maintains eye contact even though it looks like it’s the last thing on Earth she wants to be doing. “You were right, okay? I have commitment issues or whatever, and I do like Steve. And I fucked it all up.”

Misty pats his head affectionately. “Let’s go to that Alpha Chi Rho thing tonight and see if you can get lucky. You just need some different dick and you’ll stop thinking about him.”

Bucky grunts noncommitally. “Different dick. Right.”

-

Clint and Sam force Steve to tell them what’s wrong after he nearly crushes his foot in the weight room, just barely noticing a 50-lb weight sliding off the rack on a straight path to his big toe.

“Steve, I love you man,” Clint starts as the last person that isn’t the three of them leaves the locker room. “But you’ve been out of it for a solid amount of time now. You need to tell us what’s wrong so we can help you get your shit together.” Sam nods his agreement.

Steve looks between both of them hesitantly before locking his eyes on his shoes and spilling his guts.

When he finishes, he glances up to find both of his friends looking at each other with expressions that he can’t quite read.

Sam lets out long whistle. Clint mutters a soft “holy shit, dude” and shakes his head.

“Well,” Sam starts, and Steve looks up hopefully. “Let me be the first to tell you you’re an idiot.” Steve’s shoulders immediately drop.

“I know,” he mutters, and Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, you don’t, Steve. How many times did you say he explicitly said he didn’t want a relationship with you?”

Steve doesn’t answer.

“Also, he clearly wanted to be with you,” Clint adds. Sam nods, and Steve frowns. “I don’t know why you didn’t sit down with him like an adult and talk about your feelings.”

Steve balks. “But you just told me that I should have respected his boundaries.”

Sam nods. “Yes, I did. But I also think that an actual conversation would have been productive. You can’t just assume what people really want and act on what you think you know Steve. You need to have a conversation with him.”

“Fine! You’re right. So now what do I do?”

Sam throws his hands up. “I don’t know! Just don’t keep doing the shit that you’ve been doing if you don’t want this entire thing to turn to shit.”

Steve stares at the floor. 

Clint claps his hands together. “Well, who wants to get drunk?”

-

Bucky should have known. He should have fucking known the night was going to go like this because it’s just his shitty fucking luck.

Brock fucking Rumlow is trying to hump him through his clothes and has a fucking vice-like hold on him. All Bucky wants to do is go home.

“Come on, Wendy. I thought you liked this.”

“Fuck off, Rumlow. I’m not in the mood.”

“Let me convince you.” 

Bucky snatches his wrist from Brock “dickhead playboy lacrosse player” Rumlow’s grip. “No, thanks, Rumlow. I don’t wanna fuck you.”

Brock laughs, and Bucky suddenly becomes acutely aware that no one is paying attention to their situation although they’re in a room full of people. His throat feels tight. “So you’re telling me that you, a known slut, really wanna turn down sex?” Brock seizes Bucky’s arm again, and his hold is tight. “That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Brock, stop!”

-

Steve stares down at his shot bitterly, ignoring Sam and Clint being rowdy next to him. How many times was he going to try and remedy heartbreak with hellish vodka?

“Brock, stop!”

Steve’s spine goes stiff.

Bucky.

He looks around at his teammates, but they don’t seem to notice his change in demeanor. 

For a split second, Steve tries to jump back into the conversation. He and Bucky aren’t dating, never were, and whatever thing that they had going on was over. Good riddance. Bucky isn’t his problem anymore.

Still, his brain interjects. Steve has to do something. Brock is an asshole with no boundaries, and Bucky could very well be in danger. Regardless of how Steve felt about him, he couldn’t let someone fall victim to Brock fucking Rumlow.

Steve downs the rest of his beer and heads towards the sound of Bucky’s voice, breaking away from the conversation without much notice from anyone.

-

“I don’t owe you shit,” Bucky spits, and tries to hide how much his hands are shaking. His gaze darts around the house, and even though it’s completely full, he still feels like they’re the only people in the room. No one was paying attention to them, and Bucky quickly felt himself losing this fight.

Brock huffs. “You left me with blue balls about two months ago and never apologized for it, so I’m pretty sure you sort of do.”

He takes another step towards Bucky, who instinctively takes a step back. Panic spirals in his chest.

-

Steve watches Rumlow advance towards Bucky like a wolf closing in on its prey, and nothing but pure anger propels him to make it over to the scene in what feels like less than a second.

“I’m pretty sure he told you to leave him alone, Rumlow,” Steve snaps at Brock’s back. He makes eye contact over his shoulder long enough to catch Bucky’s bewildered glance before the latter averts his eyes to the floor. 

Brock turns around to eye Steve before rolling his eyes. “Give it a rest, Rogers. This doesn’t concern you.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “Don’t think it really matters if it does. This is starting to sound a hell of a lot like assault. I heard him ask you multiple times to leave him alone.”

Brock shoots Steve a disbelieving look. “Assault? Steve,”  _  - and God the way that Rumlow says his name makes his fucking blood boil holy shit -  _ “this isn’t that. It’s just Bucky.”

_ Just Bucky? _

Steve sees red, and suddenly he’s swinging. 

-

Bucky’s frozen in place. He keeps looking between Rumlow groaning on the floor and a very upset Steve Rogers standing over him, shoulders drawn.

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathes.

“I know,” Steve mutters.

“You just punched the shit out of Brock,” Bucky adds dumbly.

“I know,” Steve says again.

It feels like they’ve been standing there for years as people move away from the scene. A couple of guys (Bucky assumes they’re Brock’s fraternity brothers) come and scoop Rumlow off the floor, giving Steve a dirty look but not saying much. They know better. The two of them watch the boys cart Brock off into another room, and the party resembles without much acknowledgement of the dramatic, Degrassi-type scene that just happened.

Only Bucky and Steve are still rooted to their spots with baited breath.

Steve looks Bucky directly in the eye for the first time in two weeks. “We need to talk,” he says, and Bucky can’t really do much except follow him outside. Who is he to disobey fucking Muhammad Ali over here?

The silence is deafening as the two make their way outside. The distance at which they stand apart isn’t necessarily awkward, but it’s certainly not appropriate for two people with that much history between them.

Steve seems to have shrunken in on himself as the reality of what he just did sets in, and Bucky can see his mind going a mile a minute.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, eyes wide. He shrugs and looks back down at his feet. 

“No problem,” Steve says lowly. “He shouldn’t treat people like that.”

Bucky snorts. “Not even sluts?” He means it as a joke at first, but the words turn sour in his mouth. He huffs out a hurt laugh and crosses his arms, closing in on himself.

Steve looks up to frown at him. “ _ No one _ should be treated like that, Bucky.”

Silence.

Bucky’s having an exceptionally hard time remembering why he broke this thing off in the first place. Steve is nice, loving, funny (sometimes), and has the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen.

On top of that, he’s halfway in love with Bucky. And willing to punch mean guys for him.

And Bucky’s fucking it up royally.

“I was wrong,” he says suddenly. Steve’s frown deepens. “I wanted to be more than friends with benefits. I was just scared that it wouldn’t work out, so I pushed you away. That just made things worse, and…” Bucky sighs. “I’m sorry. You deserved a better explanation.”

Steve looks at Bucky hard, and the angry look looks foreign and ugly on his bright face. He steps forward, and Bucky braces himself to get hit. He feels guilty a second later because they both know that Steve would never lay a hand on him, but Bucky is still scared of his glare all the same.

He doesn’t expect Steve to grab the back of his neck and force their lips together.

“You’re a dumbass,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s lips.

“I know,” Bucky says back. He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and deepens the kiss.

“And we need to talk,” Steve interrupts again, pausing to grab Bucky’s ass roughly through his jeans. Bucky groans.

“Anything you want, yeah.” 

It takes them a few tries to detach from each other - going two weeks without the person you want most makes you a little clingy - before they start walking towards Steve’s dorm.

“Doesn’t your hand hurt?” Bucky asks. He peers down at Steve’s swollen knuckles.

“Like a bitch,” Steve admits casually. Bucky does a double take as Steve sends him a slightly maniacal grin. “I’m in a lot of pain, Bucky.”

“So why the fuck are you-” Bucky cuts himself off with a loud sigh. He directs Steve off the path to his dorm and towards the 24-hour Walgreens. “Big fucking football oaf, can’t even feel his bones probably breaking,” Steve laughs and lets Bucky push him forward.

-

Bucky isn’t the only one with a dramatic confession this evening, Steve decides as they sit outside the pharmacy with painkillers, gauze, and ice. It’s pitch black outside, and they seem to be the only two people in the world.

“It was my fault, too,” Steve admits shyly as as Bucky texted all of their friends about their whereabouts. His knuckles are red, raw, and cold from the ice he’s been putting on it for the past ten minutes.

“Clint uses are too many emojis,” Bucky mutters as he frowns at Steve’s phone, not registering his confession.

“And Natasha uses far too little. She’s like a robot,” Steve adds. Bucky laughs. “But seriously, Bucky.” Bucky locks his phone and slides it into his back pocket. The only acknowledgement he makes is the quick, prompting look he shoots Steve as he places his bruises hand in his lap and opens up the gauze.

“I’m listening.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to force anything. That was rude and an invasion of your privacy and also a complete violation of our agreement.”

Bucky snorts. “It was anal, Steve. Not a fucking merger.”

Steve huffs. “Still! I’m sorry. I really like you, too. I wanna make this work.”

Bucky finishes off the wrapping. 

“I wanna make this work, too,” Bucky says. He rubs his hands over his thighs and looks around skittishly. One leg won’t stop bouncing. Steve doesn’t ever think he’s seen Bucky this nervous. “And I’m sorry for being shitty. I’m working on that for you.”

Steve takes in Bucky’s words. 

“So… do you wanna try?”

Bucky looks over at him, and a brilliant smile starts to slowly grace his face. Steve feels something strange blossom in his chest. 

That smile is just for him. 

“I’d love to.”

Steve reaches for him, and Bucky moves across the the bench to meet him halfway. Steve holds him tight and kisses his forehead, and Bucky realizes that it’s the closest they’ve been without sex being involved.

It’s nice.

Steve is big and warm, and he touches Bucky with an intention that’s intimate without being completely carnal. He makes Bucky feel wanted. Loved, even.

He could get used to this.

-

“Steve!” 

He turns at the sound of his voice, letting go of Bucky’s hand to wave at Sharon Carter, who’s walking towards the couple. Bucky scoffs and stops in his tracks to glare at the blonde rapidly advancing towards them from across the courtyard.

“You couldn’t use your other hand?” he gripes. Steve rolls his eyes in response. “Isn’t that the girl who rejected you? What does she want now?”

Steve snorts and glances at his grumpy boyfriend. “We’re still friends, Buck. She probably just wants to catch up.”

Bucky grunts. “She can smell the sex on you. I know she can. She’s coming for her fill.”

Steve huffs and walks forward to meet Sharon halfway before Bucky gets anymore hysterical.

“Hi, Sharon!” he says brightly, wrapping her in a tight bear hug. They exchange pleasantries for a moment before Sharon starts to feel the hole’s Steve’s buddy is burning into her head.

She glances over Steve’s shoulder. Bucky has his arms crossed, watching them with a mixture of suspicion and distrust on his face. Sharon smirks.

She juts her chin out in Bucky’s direction. “That your friend over there giving me the evil eye?” Steve’s brow scrunches and he turns to follow Sharon’s gaze. Bucky’s mean face drops immediately, and he smiles sweetly, waving at Steve.

Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes before turning back to the blonde in front of him. “Boyfriend, actually,” Sharon’s tiny smile turns into a delighted grin. “And don’t mind him. Bucky’s a little dramatic, but he’s harmless.” Steve looks around distractedly for a second. “For the most part.”

Sharon hums and steals another look at Steve Rogers’ boyfriend. He’s pale and slender, with silky-looking brown hair pulled high into a bun and frigid blue eyes still analyzing their interaction. He’s the complete opposite of Steve’s bright, cheery demeanor.

Adorable.

“He’s cute,” She muses, and he beams proudly. She leans in conspiratorially, and he does the same. “Has he taught you anything since our last encounter?”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he goes red up to the roots of his hair. He lets out a surprised laugh and scrubs his hand over his face sheepishly. “More than you could imagine,” he mumbles, and it’s Sharon’s turn to laugh loudly. 

She pats Steve’s arm, still giggling. “I’m happy for you. You deserve it.” Bucky scowls and Sharon takes that as her cue. “I don’t wanna hog you for too long. I think our audience is starting to get restless.” Steve doesn’t even look behind him before a faux-annoyed look graces his face. “Take care, Steve. I’ll see you around.”

Steve smiles and waves as he walk backwards to Bucky. “You too, Sharon.” He turns around and trots the rest of the way back to his waiting boyfriend.

Bucky yanks Steve down by his collar - Sharon internally squeals at the height and body mass differences - and kisses him in a manner too obscene for the public eye. Steve looks stunned at first, but quickly returns it with fervor. She feels as if she’s intruding on a personal moment, but she can’t look away.

Sharon tries not to gasp out loud as she watches sweet farm boy Steve Rogers grope his boyfriend’s ass in the university quad.

Huh.

Who would’ve thought?


End file.
